Circle of healing
by eretria
Summary: After the death of his master, ObiWan is trapped in grief and guilt. When Queen Amidala reaches out to him, a bond opens up between them. Can they dissolve itand will they want to? Rewrite of chapters 1924 complete. Rereading might be required.
1. I

**_Circle of healing _**

**Category**: Angst, Drama, Romance  
**Rating**: Just to make sure I don't offend anyone, I'd say: PG-13 May get higher in upcoming chapters  
**Archiving**: Midnight Tea, list-archives, Guardian's of Peace, The darkness within, Wolfie's den, General Elfling's Lair  
**Tim** **eli****ne** : shortly after TPM  
**Disclaimer**: StarWars, its characters and premise belong to George Lucas. I do not own them. I'm just borrowing them to build my own little story line and hope to return them in good shape. (er . . .) I don't intend to make any profit from writing this, so please (as always) don't sue me. All the other persons come straight out of my warped little mind and therefore belong to me.  
**Author's note:** This story is the translation of the Original I have written in my native language. If something sounds somehow . . . Hm, edgy, it surely is a translation error.  
I need to give loads of thanks to Jane Jinn, Quiller, Sleepwalker and Baylor for patient beta-reads. And, of course biggest possible thanks go out to my muse Stefanie (who does her job so very wonderfully and works practical magic) and her (to her yet unknown) partner in crime Yvonne & Kati-Wan. Without them this story would never come as far as it is. Same goes for Sleepwalker, Cassia and Quiller. Incredibly talented writers, wonderful friends. Thank you, luvs. :o)  
**Spoilers** : since everyone has seen TPM, I'm afraid I can't spoiler anyone anymore, so: Nope  
**Warning**: Anakin. He's not going to show up. But I won't go all AU either.  
**Summary** : After the death of his master, Obi-Wan is trapped in grief and guilt. When Queen Amidala reaches out to him, a bond opens up between them. Can they dissolve it--and will they want to?  
**Feedback**: It's sometimes even better than chocolate. I'd love to hear from you

**_Circle of healing_**

I.

_Oïgame compay! No deje el camino por coger la vereda.  
_(Listen friend! Don't stray from the path.)_  
--Ibrahim Ferrer--_

The tea he was given shone like dark gold. He felt the heat the drink was exuding, but it didn't really register in his mind. Almost automatically he placed the delicate bowl to his lips and swallowed mechanically, without thinking. There was nothing left to think about. His mind was exhausted.  
The healer priestess waited until he had finished drinking and carefully took the bowl out of his hands. "You need to rest, young master."  
'Rest! What an irony. If I hadn't rested so much in the past, this rest I'm advised to have now wouldn't be necessary in the first place.'

* * *

The woman watched the form of the man intently.  
He could have been her son. A young man, barely 25 standard years old, clad in a sand coloured tunic accompanied by brown breeches. A roughly woven cloak lay around his shoulder. She didn't know if she was the only person to whom it seemed that way, but she couldn't shove the fe eling aside that the weight of this cloak was going to crush him.  
"Rest, young master," she repeated. She was sure that he wouldn't follow her advice. Just like he hadn't followed any of her suggestions since she had seen him for the very first time.  
The priestess shook her head in worry. This couldn't go on like that.  
She was interrupted in her thoughts when a small hand was placed on her arm. Even though she managed to quell a shocked yelp, she could feel her heart pounding painfully against her ribcage.  
The fragile figure of a young woman, clad in a cloak which nearly hid her face completely, pointed towards the young man. "How is he?"  
The priestess motioned for the newly arrived person to follow her. With a last glance at the figure in the heavy brown cloak she retreated into the shadow of the high arches. Once arrived there the woman turned back her hood.  
The priestess sank to her knees with a suppressed sound of surprise. "Your Majesty, I wasn't informed that you were planning a visit . . ."  
"I beg you, get up." The queen's voice was soft." There is no need for you to kneel in front of me." An apologetic smile flashed over her face. "I wanted to look for him by myself. There is no need for the whole royal household to accompany me."  
Only when she had stood up did the priestess realise that the queen hadn't just come in a simple robe. The make-up, usually her constant companion outside the palace, was also missing. Suddenly she looked very young.  
"Tell me, Reaja. How is he?"  
Sorrow clouded the face of the woman in her best years. "I don't know, your highness. The physical wounds have healed. But as sad as it is, my healing powers don't extend to the soul."  
The queen frowned and glanced back to the silver sparkling pond where the tall figure still hadn't moved. "Is there nothing we can do?"  
"Before the healing process of his soul can begin, he has to learn to forgive himself. I'm afraid that he is not ready for that yet. Until then . . ." Reaja sighed heavily, "I can only stop his body from failing."  
A second priestess in the traditionally radiant blue robe of the healers appeared out of the arches. She didn't recognise the queen who had turned away slightly, and spoke quietly but urgently to Reaja. Indicating a bow that showed her respect for the older woman, she retreated.  
"I am being called back to the temple, your Majesty."  
The young woman turned to face the priestess. "Do you think I could stay?"  
The queen's voice was so sad that Reaja had to restrain herself not to scoop her into a warm, motherly hug. This woman in front of her was no longer the queen of an entire nation. This was a young woman who worried about a friend, even more than she admitted. Reaja saw the brown eyes darkening, just as if shadows were flying over them, dark premonitions and fear.  
She whispered a short spell to save her from harm and then placed two fingers on the perfect parting. The queen was momentarily confused but when she recognised what the priestess was doing she smiled.  
"I thank you, Healer," she replied her short appreciation.  
Without any further word, the priestess turned on her heel and left the queen behind in the soft sound of light rain.

* * *

The woman who still looked at the figure on the now slightly rain-ruffled pond wasn't the queen anymore. This wasn't Amidala, the cool and self-controlled woman who led her people with strong hands and calm demeanour. This was Padmé, the woman she had been before – the woman she still was.  
Sometimes this hide-and-seek confused even her and often she asked herself which of those two lives was better. The queen's or the handmaiden's? No matter how often she thought about it - she never found an answer. And maybe it was good the way it was. Only due to these circumstances she could allow herself those rare minutes in which she - far away from the stiff ritual and the pomp of the palace - could simply be herself. Without make-up, without ornaments for her hair that seemed to weigh a ton and without those gowns that made moving a nearly impossible task.  
Now here she was, desperately wishing for the authority which this mask brought with it. Perhaps it would help the friend. Perhaps the queen's authority would bring him out of this lethargy. Padmé dismissed the thought as fast as it had come. Authority would only drive him further over the edge.  
But what was she supposed to do now? Helplessness was not a fe eling she was used to.  
Reluctantly she walked a few steps out of the arches and up to him. The rain was icy cold and even though she wore a cloak, it seemed to go right through to her skin. Nevertheless she didn't dare go any closer. The young Jedi had erected an aura of dismissal around him, with the intent of sending everyone away, no matter how noble the reason. No one, not even his Padawan who was on his way to Tattooine now, had been able to reach him.  
Had all of this really happened just a week ago? To Padmé it seemed like an eternity. No one was beginning to know how often she had been here since that day. Too often she had sneaked out of her rooms and had left Captain Panaka and the royal household behind in sheer panic.  
But that didn't matter. Her worries were only on the young Jedi who was standing out there in the rain. Whose loss was her fault. The rain was falling steadily by now, drenching her cloak. Padmé was miserably cold. Her gaze wandered back to him.  
Obi-Wan Kenobi.  
Did he know that she was standing here, watching him? Did he know how much she suffered with him, how much the pain of the recent loss hurt her, too?  
'If I hadn't asked for their help, his master would still be alive right now.'  
That sentence had burned into her thoughts and no matter how often she tried to push it away - Obi-Wan's silent grief was there to remind her of it.  
'I have those lives on my conscience. Qui-Gon's, the pilots' , the Gungans' . . . How do you live with a load like that? Is that the burden that a queen is requested to carry? Is it demanded?'  
Padmé's teeth had started to chatter in a steady rhythm, without her realising it. She welcomed the cold like a punishment for her actions.  
'What else could I have done?' she asked herself. 'My people would have been killed or enslaved! But was our freedom worth this terrible price?'  
Her head started to hurt as the sheer load of her conscience sank onto her shoulders with its full power.  
'And Kenobi? What right did I have to make him become this shadow of himself?'  
Padmé raised her face into the rain to stop the hot tears that threatened to fall. She couldn't cry like a small child. She still was the queen. No matter if Padmé or Amidala - both were expected to be in control of their fe elings. But why did it hurt so much? Why did she feel like she was breaking apart under the horrible weight of her guilt?  
As if he had sensed her thoughts, Kenobi turned around to face her.  
Padmé cringed under the gaze. The eyes that had once been a mesmerising, radiant blue had now become dull. His face looked sunken and emaciated. How could a single week possibly destroy so much in a man?  
Kenobi didn't avert his eyes. "Your Majesty."  
Had that been a formal announcement? An indictment? A question? The answer froze in her throat. She felt the urge to run, far, far away to avoid the pain in his eyes. But she was locked in the place, unable to move a single muscle.  
The young Jedi walked a half-hearted step towards her. His eyes were still filled with an almost inhuman, barely endurable pain. "The rain is cold, your Majesty. You shouldn't be here."  
Padmé swallowed and forced the words around the lump in her throat. "Is the rain any less cold for you, Jedi Kenobi?"  
"What difference does it make?"  
Unwanted anger arose in Padmé. Who did he think he was? Who gave him the right to occupy all of the grief for himself, to drown in it without thinking of the others?  
"You're so self-righteous, Jedi Kenobi." The words had left her mouth before she could think about why she had wanted to verbalise them.  
The young man lifted his tired eyes. He didn't even try to look surprised. The rain started to leave his marks on his handsome features. They looked like tears.  
"Am I?" he asked. "Well, if your majesty thinks that way, then I wonder why you are still concerning yourself with me. The palace surely has a warm bath and dry garments ready for you."  
The self-loathing that reverberated in those words hit her like a slap in the face. What had made her say that? She had had no right.  
Still reluctant, she closed the remaining distance between them. "By chance I know that there is enough hot water and dry garments for two."  
She tried to smile without letting it become the pained grimace it threatened to become. Just as she had expected, the Jedi didn't return the smile but stared at the clear play of the raindrops on the surface of the pond.  
This place was beautiful, but Padmé doubted that the Jedi realised it.  
"Come with me, Jedi Kenobi," she implored.  
Under no circumstances would she leave him standing here. Jedi or not, she knew those rains better than he did. She knew how high the chances to catch a nasty case of flu were. Every Naboo knew.  
But Kenobi was no Naboo.  
Even though the thought of breaking some kind of taboo by touching him worried her, she plucked gingerly at the drenched sleeve of his cloak. The brown fabric must have become extremely heavy with all the water it had soaked up.  
"I thank you, your majesty, but I prefer to stay here."  
'Damn Jedi politeness!' she fumed inwardly.  
There was scarcely a more effective way of chasing someone away than with this kind of icy politeness. Too bad for him that she was immune to that. She had been learning how to use exactly this kind of tactic for far too long not to be able to sidestep it.  
"Jedi Kenobi, I don't want to make this an order, because I am not here as the queen. I ask you as a friend: Come with me. Qui-Gon surely wouldn't want you to catch your death out here."  
Kenobi mumbled something that was too soft for her to understand, but he nodded. With heavy steps that made all the ease and the litheness of his usual way of carrying himself forgotten, he followed the queen. Both of them left a twinkling trail of droplets of water behind them on the marble floor under the arches.

* * *

Padmé had some difficulties trying to calm down an agitated Captain Panaka and a much more agitated handmaiden. Sabé, her personal bodyguard, was outraged about the queen's little excursion. Padmé didn't need an angry outburst from her to find that out. She saw it in the tense posture and in the reproachful looks Sabé gave her.  
"Sabé, bring dry garments for the Jedi and me and prepare a bath." Her teeth were chattering so fast by now that she found it hard to talk at all. Her jaw hurt.  
The handmaiden raised a questioning eyebrow, but retreated from the queen's chambers without another word. Padmé knew that it was unseemly to bring a man into those chambers. But as of right now she didn't care about what was seemly and what was not.  
Kenobi still stood in the doorway, with a puddle of water around his feet that was slowly growing larger.  
At Padmé's gesture another handmaiden hurried into the room and removed the queen's cloak from her shoulders first and then the Jedi's. Padmé smiled when the young woman gasped, surprised by the weight of the Jedi's cloak. The handmaiden shot the young man an inquisitive glance before she retreated.  
Padmé sighed. The mills of gossip had started to turn. In less than one hour the whole palace would know that the queen had a man in her chambers. She shook her head, resigned, and waited for Sabé to return.  
"Sit down, Jedi Kenobi." She pointed towards a soft chair.  
"That won't be necessary, your Majesty. I do not intend to stay."  
Padmé's eyebrows shot up. "You don't?"  
Kenobi shook his head. "This is not the proper place for me and you will be in trouble."  
"Trouble?" The queen gave a silvery laugh, a sound echoing softly in the high chamber. "Trouble, Jedi Kenobi? Did you forget who's the queen here? This is the place where I can do what I please."  
A slight gleam in his eyes showed that he was amused. Not more. His face stayed expressionless. "Nevertheless this is not the right place for me."  
Padmé rose and tried to get her chattering teeth under control to give her words a little bit of the much needed dignity. "Where is the right place for you then, Jedi? With the deceased?"  
That must have struck a nerve. He flinched visibly but didn't answer.  
Without paying any further attention to him she turned towards the returning Sabé who signalled her to come behind a folding screen in a corner of the huge room.  
With swift and efficient movements she undid the queen's garments and handed her a silk robe. She had found out quite some time ago that the queen didn't approve of being attended too much, so Sabé only did the bare necessities.  
"Your bath is ready, Your Majesty. So is the Jedi's."  
Padmé whispered something to Sabé who nodded. While the queen left the room to walk the short distance to the bathing area, Sabé shifted her attention towards the soaked Jedi.  
"The queen told me to attend you," she informed him when she undid the belt of his tunic without inhibition. Sabé was used to the kind of work, so it surprised her even more when the young man caught her hands and stepped back from her.  
"I don't think that I will need your help." He released her hands.  
The handmaiden smiled softly after she recovered from the initial shock. "I realise that you don't need it. But don't you think that it would be nice to have someone take care of you instead of you always taking care of others?"  
Obi-Wan Kenobi felt the earnestness behind the young woman's words, but he raised his hand in a dismissive way. "I am grateful for your offer. But it's not the way of a Jedi to have someone to attend him."  
Sabé shrugged. "As you wish. I'm going to put your fresh robe over here and wait for you outside to show you the way to the bathing area." With those words she retreated and left Kenobi on his own.  
He shook his head and asked himself, not for the first time, why he had taken the queen's offer. This was not a place for him. The splendour nearly suffocated him - every inch of his soul yearned for the quiet serenity and the simplicity of the rooms in the Jedi-temple. But she had been right. A little longer out there in the rain and the cold and he would have caught a dangerous case of pneumonia.  
'What would have been so bad about that?'  
He dismissed the thought with some difficulties and took off his wet garments. Even though his awareness was still numbed by the excruciating pain of his loss, he realised that he was freezing. Quickly he slipped into the robe Sabé had given him and was surprised to feel the cool silk sliding against his skin. A luxury like this was not common to a Jedi and he felt correspondingly bad about it.  
Even though his mind wanted to deny him the pleasure of a hot bath, he couldn't fight his body this time. Without much thought his legs started to move and followed the waiting Sabé.

* * *

The water was pleasantly hot and he sank into the most agreeable, fragrant warmth with a sigh.  
Instantly his consciousness stung. What right did he have to enjoy this luxury? He didn't deserve it. He had been more than discourteous to the queen and there was nothing about his behaviour that could be excused.  
Furthermore there still was the pain - the icy cloak around his heart seemed to be melting in the warmth. Tears stung in his eyes.  
'Not here. No weakness. No anger. No weakness.'  
He had repeated those words so often after Qui-Gon's death that he didn't even willingly have to think them anymore. They were there as soon as his carefully placed mask of strength started to slip. Obi-Wan tried to centre himself to escape those thoughts at least for a little while.  
He was tired beyond measure. Sleep was unthinkable, he had sunk too far into grief and fear of what he had done. Sleep appeared inappropriate now; thinking of what he had done, it almost seemed that he would fail Qui-Gon in some way if he slept.  
Part of him knew that this was nonsense.  
But that knowledge didn't help at all.  
Days ago his body had started sending him warning signals, which he ignored vehemently. Here, in the warmth of the water and the obviously very close steam bath where the queen was, he realised just how much he had overtaxed himself. As a Jedi he was trained to cope with a few days without sleep, but more than a week without sleep was too much, even for a Jedi.  
His gaze wandered over the luxurious but not pompous furnishings of the bathroom. It was one huge room, divided by different paper-like partition-walls. Soft light seemed to emanate from everywhere without him being able to find its source. Next to him, only two partition walls away, he could hear Sabé talk softly to the queen. Had he wanted to, he could have understood every single word they were saying. But what would that have accomplished?  
He sank deeper into the comfortable warmth and felt his hurting muscles starting to relax. Fatigue came over him like a heavy black blanket. There was no point in trying to escape this. Obi-Wan had known, or at least expected, that this would claim its tribute sooner or later.  
'I'm sorry for not being stronger, Master,' he thought before the dark blanket of fatigue swathed him completely.  
He didn't feel anything anymore when he sank under the water.

* * *

The queen sat up at the young Jedi's bed. It was the least she could do.  
She wasn't quite sure whether it really had been an accident or if Kenobi had tried to follow his Master - fact was that Sabé had found him in one of the pools; unconscious and under water. Her scream had alarmed Padmé who had been drying her long hair behind a thin wall right next to that pool, and so it had been the queen who had been there to help Sabé and not a guardian. Luckily he couldn't have been laying like that for very long, because they could resuscitate him quickly.  
Padmé's heart had stopped beating for some endless seconds when she had heard Sabé's cry for help. She had immediately known that something had happened to Kenobi, had been afraid to have lost him, too.  
'Hadn't you already lost him before?'  
Unwillingly, she shook her head against that thought and then turned back towards the sleeping Jedi.  
She was sitting in one of the seldom used rooms belonging to her private chambers. A bed for the Jedi had been put up here.  
Sabé and Reaja had tried to convince their queen to get some rest, but Padmé had categorically refused. Just as long Captain Panaka had tried to make her move the Jedi into the guest rooms. With that he had nearly crossed the line.  
Padmé knew that Panaka didn't like the Jedi. But to turn against his queen, on top of that because of such a triviality? To start a discussion like that with her was not very wise, and it was not his place to give her any kinds of orders. If she wouldn't have managed to expel him from the room with an icy friendliness in the very last second, she would have lost her temper because of his insubordination.  
While Sabé had brought a tray with fruit and wine mixed with a bit of water and had retreated once again, she had murmured something about not wanting to be in Panaka's skin the next time he met the queen.  
Thinking of that short flicker of the handmaiden's dry sense of humour, Padmé smiled.  
She watched the Jedi's features. The healer priestess Reaja had given him a potion that would make him sleep quietly, until his body had recovered some of its strength. He looked peaceful, Padmé thought. The grief had embedded itself, leaving deep furrows in the smooth, boyish face but at least the resigned look on his face had disappeared.  
For a moment her petite hand lingered in the air just above his face, then she brushed past one of those stern lines.  
"How much I would like to undo all of this, Jedi Kenobi," she whispered.  
She knew that it was not in her power to change the past.  
But she would watch over the young Jedi's sleep. It was the least she could do . . .

* * *

Later on she couldn't tell when exactly she had fallen asleep in the big armchair. The only thing that was sure, was that the sleep wasn't the least bit refreshing. The last week's events rushed past her again and again, remaining menacingly, and did not let her have any rest at all.  
Suddenly the dream changed.  
She was standing on a high catwalk that led over a bottomless abyss. The deep and threatening hum of lightsabers became audible._  
_Sparks crossed her vision before she saw the persons. Her adrenaline level shot up immensely as she ran up to where the noise of static was coming from. Right in front of her, a red force field closed, stopping her from running any further. Her hand painfully locked around the handle of her own lightsaber while she tried to control her erratic breathing. From where she stood, she was damned to watch idly as . . .

* * *

Padmé woke abruptly from the dream. Cold sweat had formed on her upper lip, and her mouth was dry. It took her a few moments to find her way back into the real world. Her whole body was shaking, the adrenaline was pumping through her veins in doses that were much too high. Her heart was racing.  
What kind of a dream had that been? She didn't even know the places she had seen in it, had never held a lightsabre in her hands. But nevertheless it was as though she had never been anybody else than this person in front of the force field who was so vastly helpless despite his strength, his knowledge and his training.  
Padmé rubbed her eyes and rose to get herself a glass of water. Her throat was dry and hurt.  
Instinctively she asked herself how the Jedi, who had been standing in the rain much longer than her, would be fe eling. Carrying this thought with her, she turned to Kenobi.  
Had she ever realised how pale he was? Or was that just another sign of grief? Reaja had told her that he had been sent to the healer's temple because he neither slept nor ate.  
Padmé felt another wave of guilt starting to suffocate her.  
She wondered whether she should call for Sabé. But the handmaiden already slept for a few hours and Padmé didn't want to wake her for nothing.  
So what was there left to do? Uneasy, she walked up and down in the big chamber. It was strange how, in such a state of mind, even the biggest room could cause claustrophobic fe elings.  
With swift steps she strode up to one of the big windows and opened it wide. Cold night air found its way in and instantly filled the room with the silvery light of the moon and the smells of the hundreds of different flowers outside the Theed palace. Silence lay over the big arches.  
A silence she had always enjoyed, a silence which . . .  
. . . was sharply broken by a muffled cry.  
The queen flinched fiercely and closed the window at once. She only realised that the cry had come from her own chambers, when it was repeated.  
Behind her, Kenobi had started to toss and turn and mumble incomprehensible words. "No! You cannot leave!"  
Padmé worriedly sank to her knees next to the Jedi and watched him closely. The nightmare he was caught in seemed never-ending, his face turning more and more into a mask of hatred, lon eliness and vindictiveness that scared Padmé more than everything else. She knew that sleepers shouldn't be woken before their time, especially not when they were dreaming. But this sleeper scared her. With great care she put her slim hand on the Jedi' shoulder and shook him gently.  
"Wake up, Jedi Kenobi."  
She vaguely remembered Reaja's potion and the fact that she probably wouldn't succeed in trying to wake him - but she had to try.  
Again she shook him. The answer was an irritable growl.  
Now Padmé was not only shivering because of the cool night air that had flooded the room. Jedi were known to be peaceful, they had left fe elings like anger far behind them. But all she could find on Kenobi's sleeping face was darkness.  
"Kenobi!" Her voice had become sharper than she had intended, but it seemed to have worked.  
The Jedi slowly freed himself of the nightmare's claws and woke up. When his eyes opened and fastened on the queen, they had the colour of a storm-darkened sky. The worry and the fear that had not completely ebbed away were both emanating from her as loudly as screams to Obi-Wan. Something had happened while he had slept. Something . . . elusive.  
_'This terrible darkness . . . Is he all right?'_  
Kenobi stared at the queen with an expression of mild confusion. She hadn't moved her lips, yet he had heard her as if she had spoken clearly.  
More words reached his mind this way, but the woman opposite him had not moved a single muscle even as he heard her speak. A boundless dark wave of guilt washed over him, so sudden that it left him gasping for air.  
Padmé felt the Jedi's utter confusion even before she saw it. It ran deep and brought forward questions she couldn't answer. But despite the confusion, she felt more.  
Anger, grief, despair hopelessness – all those emotions that lay hidden behind the Jedi's stoic facade, dragged her down into an increasingly violent whirl which threatened to drown her.

* * *

TBC


	2. II

Circle of healing_2_verdana **__**

II.

Can a man hope to last 

__

Not knowing his past? 

__

If he chooses to stay 

__

Will the world fade away? 

__

(Steve McDonald)

It was nearly too late when Obi-Wan realised what had happened. 

"You need to let go, your Majesty." 

The queen didn't seem to be able to hear him. Her eyes were wide open and she had started to gasp for air at irregular intervals. 

As fast as his still half-sedated body allowed, Kenobi straightened and took hold of the queen's face. With one hand at each side of the beautiful face he forced her to hold eye contact. Deep within her eyes he saw Padme fighting against the swirl of emotions. He also saw how weak she had already become. 

"You must follow me, your Majesty. You need to let go!" 

Stormy blue-green eyes bored into the brown ones opposite. Obi-Wan had difficulties in trying to force back the seething panic that threatened to close in on him. For some reason that he could not see, the queen had set up a connection to his mind, and the force was functioning as a perfect conductor. 

He knew of the dangers of connections like this - the council had its reason for prohibiting them as far as possible. 

Kenobi didn't realise that his hands, still lying on the queen's cheeks, were already starting to leave marks in the tender face. With an incredible amount of willpower he broke the connection of their minds. 

Almost instantly they both sank back, exhausted and shaken to the bones. 

"I am sorry, your Majesty. . ." 

"I didn't know . . ." 

Obi-Wan Kenobi closed his eyes and tried to calm his racing heart down. He needed to be strong now. 

When he opened his eyes again, he nearly didn't recognise the queen anymore. Her eyes had grown large and tears hung on the long, almost childlike lashes. Her cheeks were flushed by the marks his hands had imprinted, her hair had fallen out of the usual strict hairstyle and and stray strands lay across her face. 

She gazed steadfastly at him. 

For a long time. 

Sadly. 

Guiltily. 

Just when he thought he would not be able to take the questioning glance any longer, she said: "Why didn't you tell anyone about it, Jedi Kenobi?" 

The protective wall he had learned to erect around his feelings and his thoughts came up so fast that he was certain the queen must have seen it. Whatever he did - this reaction was one of the first Qui-Gon had taught him. Since that time Obi-Wan Kenobi had become a master in masking his feelings. 

A disappointed look appeared on the queen's exhausted face. Obi-Wan knew that he wasn't being fair to her, that what had just happened needed an explanation, but he couldn't give it. 

Not now. 

He needed time to think. 

Padme felt fatigue creep into her limbs like lead. Under half-closed lids she watched the Jedi standing on the same window she had closed shortly before. His profile stood out sharply against the bright moonlight. Again and again her eyes closed, and over and over again she forced herself to open them again. 

Kenobi hadn't answered her yet. 

With a tremendous effort of will she opened her eyes fully and rose. Now that she was up her legs seemed too weak to hold her, just as her eyes seemed too weak to see. 

__

'This is not going to help him', she thought grimly. 

Even though she had never actually felt any of it, she knew about the things a Jedi was capable of. 

"Even if you convince me of my exhaustion now, I will continue my search for answers, Jedi Kenobi." Even in her ears the words sounded strangely. 

Kenobi didn't avert his eyes from the silver hued garden in front of the window. 

The lake twinkled. 

A night bird called somewhere. 

"Did you hear me, Jedi?" 

" I did, your Majesty." 

Padme waited a few moments. When she didn't get an answer again, she pulled together all the strength that was left in her tired body and walked over to the Jedi to confront him directly. 

"Will you answer me?" 

Obi-Wan was surprised to see her standing in front of him so calmly. Her eyes showed no sign of the justified anger that had been so vibrant in her voice. 

Something odd was hidden there. Just moments ago those eyes had looked into the deepest abysses of his soul, but now they seemed dull. Within a split second he had caught the other disturbing signals coming from the queen. She held onto the window with one hand - a random gesture for the uninvolved bystander - a plain sign of weakness for the trained eyes of the Jedi. 

" Your Majesty?" 

Her hand on the window had started to tremble so heavily that the pure effort of controlling that trembling made her knuckles turn white. Padme indignantly shook her head against an upcoming dizziness. "You will not succeed in doing this, Jedi." 

The repetition of this phrase confused Obi-Wan completely. _'Succeed in doing what?'_

"You owe me an explanation." 

The ground below Padme started to shake menacingly when her legs started to give way. Reality and the illusions produced by her dizzy brain reunited like two friends long parted. The only thing that held her upright was her hand on the window. 

"Answer me, Jedi . . ." 

Obi-Wan's Jedi-reflexes allowed him to catch the queen before she actually fell. The body in his arms seemed to weigh almost nothing and was surprisingly cool. 

"_Sabé_!" His voice cut sharply through the velvet-like darkness that lay before him. Faster than Obi-Wan had expected it, the drowsy figure of the handmaiden entered the queen's chamber. 

"Yes, master?" 

She stifled a yawn behind her hand and was obviously indignant about the disturbance in the middle of the night. One glance at the sunken body of the queen in the arms of the Jedi chased all signs of fatigue out of her. She took the stance of a predatory cat ready to pounce. 

"What happened here, master?" Sabé had changed. From one second to the other the attentive handmaiden had become an alarmed bodyguard who glanced warningly in the direction of the Jedi. 

"Send a messenger to the healer's temple. The queen is ill." 

Still mistrusting Sabé came closer with a catlike grace and looked closely at the queen. 

"What happened, master?" she asked again and this time all traces of kindness were gone. 

"Send the messenger, handmaiden." Obi-Wan took up the quick duel of authorities. "The queen is in an urgent need of help. Help I cannot offer." 

He couldn't tell what exactly made Sabé trust him - the true concern in his voice or the total absence of signs of a fight - but the handmaiden straightened up. 

"Let me get you a stretcher." 

All of a sudden Kenobi felt perfectly clear how troubled the force was swirling around the queen. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. 

"No time." 

With a quick movement he took the queen in his arms and ran up to the huge columned hall with lengthy steps. 

The way to the Healers Temple was endless. 

continues


	3. III

Circle of healing_3_verdana **__**

III. 

__

And it hurts but it's true 

When you pray to the blue 

And so you reveal, that nothing is real 

Nothing but you 

(Steve McDonald)

If Obi-Wan had had the least bit of interest, he would have watched Reaja's rather unpretentious entrance with royal amusement. Her hair was hanging in long strands around her face and her face seemed like it had just been ripped out of the deepest sleep. She walked as if she was still sleeping and yawned uninhibited. 

Without giving further notice to the many small details Obi-Wan pushed her out of the way with his shoulder and followed a young novice who showed him the way to the heart of the healer's temple. 

Behind him he heard Reaja's steps rapidly getting faster. She rang a bell and called soft orders into one of the rooms that led away from the long hall. Faster than he had expected her to be, she was at his side. Her surprisingly strong arms helped him to lay the queen gently on a diagnosis bed. 

Two more priestesses appeared, their robes unlike Reaja's immaculate and without a crease. They cast a stern glance at the Jedi. 

"Why didn't you call us, Jedi? It was dangerous to transport the queen here the way you did without talking to us first." 

Obi-Wan was surprised at the sternness of the voice and immediately he felt like a little child in the Jedi Temple who had been caught daydreaming. The same, hot and cold feeling ran over him and he felt the urgent need to defend himself. "There was no more time to call for you. The queen needed immediate attention." 

He shouldn't have let them realise that he was justifying his actions. Those women had a very acute feeling for half truths. Had he sounded strong and confident, they would not have asked him further questions and would not have undermined the authority of the Jedi. But due to his lack of concentration and his worries for the queen, this was something that Obi-Wan was responsible by himself. 

Whatever would follow now, could no longer be stopped. 

"We will talk to you later, Jedi. Leave the room now." 

His protest was suffocated by Reaja's warning look the moment he had intended to voice it. Slowly he sneaked into the hall and sank onto a chair. His forehead resting on the crossed arms on his knees he sent a searching impulse through the force. 

The answer failed to appear. 

Silence closed around him and the force grew quiet. 

She was freezing. 

Gleaming light that promised deceptive warmth contained nothing but cold which hurt her skin. No shadow promised the tortured eyes a relief, no cloud darkened the sky - the gleaming continued. 

Arms wrapped closely around her much too thinly clothed body, Padme walked into the light. Into the unknown, searching for the warmth she was rapidly losing. 

Her naked feet produced soft sounds on the solid frozen snow, but every step, no matter how softly it sounded, brought new waves of pain. 

Giving up? The words had lost their meaning. 

She could have stopped. 

But she could also go on. 

And perhaps find a way out of this nightmare. Yet there was more that kept her walking. 

"Master?" 

The voice oozed into his mind like a glutinous liquid without causing any reaction right away. 

"Master?" 

The voice grew a little louder, but not unfriendlier, on the contrary - it grew more gentle. Obi-Wan thought he recognised the deep and soft voice of his mentor. A smile stole forth on his face and made it look years younger. 

Reaja shook her head when she watched the sleeping Jedi. Huddled up on two of the most uncomfortable chairs of the whole temple in a posture that hurt her even to look at, he lay in a deep peaceful sleep. 

She rued having to wake him, now that it appeared he had finally found some rest. But the high priestess had sent for him and she could not afford not to obey her wish. 

With some effort she remembered his first name. It was not common for the priestesses to call their patients by their first names, so it took her a while to find the right name for him. 

"Obi-Wan!" 

The smile on his face, that was already marked with too much responsibility, faded and was replaced by an unwilling frown. 

"Just a few more minutes, Master", he mumbled and hid his face in the wide sleeve of his cloak. 

A painful smile crossed the priestess's kind features. How often had she had to play that game with her own son? 

With a sigh Reaja laid her hand on the heavy material of the cloak under which the young Jedi had nearly completely disappeared by now and shook him carefully. 

"Wake up, Obi-Wan. The high priestess is waiting for you." 

The mentioning of the high priestess woke Kenobi from his slumber. He squinted against the light of the hall and rubbed his eyes. With great effort he managed to suppress yawning openly into the priestess's face. When he finally recognised Reaja, last night's events came rushing back to him. 

"How is the queen?" 

The priestess put a bowl of hot tea in his hands. "Drink it as long as it is still hot." 

When she saw his sceptical glance, she said: "You will be glad that I gave it to you, master." 

Still not fully awake, Obi-Wan stared at the healer in confusion, while he drank. 

"Follow me, Jedi." 

Reaja had been right. The inquisition of the highest priestess lasted a small eternity. Patience had never been one of his strengths, which caused rather unusual outbursts he regretted nearly immediately. 

The priestesses knew they were talking to a Jedi. This alone should have stopped this cross-examination. 

But this was no regular case. This was about the queen's life, a young woman that had been perfectly healthy before she had been in close contact with him. 

When they finally called for a break, Obi-Wan felt drained and exhausted. The questions had come from a few of the priestesses at the same time, making listening alone difficult. Questions he did not know the answers to. 

Tiredly he trotted along into the nearby garden and sank onto the soft grass with a sigh. He took a simple meditation posture and fought for the mental strength he would need for further confrontations with the healers. All of this would have been a whole lot easier, had the accusations not been understandable. But they were understandable. The Jedi Council would not have reacted any differently had it been for one of them. 

__

'The council.' 

Obi-Wan got up with a motion that was too fluid for his weakened body. The past days had left their marks and now every muscle screamed at the unexpectedly fast movement. 

For a few moments darkness whirred at the edges of his visual field. He felt miserably betrayed by his body and pushed back the darkness angrily. There was no time for this. Weakness was nothing he could afford now. 

He bowed his respect to the high priestess and excused himself. 

The morning sun had risen and came through the sluggishly rising early morning mists with a strangely unreal light that made the rain soaked path shimmer in myriads of colours. The songs of the birds in the jungle accompanied him and brought a confidence which seemed improper to Obi-Wan. 

Kenobi feared the confrontation with the council, since in all likelihood it had been his carelessness, his _weakness_ that had brought the queen into immediate danger. 

He sought all the strength he could gather and prepared for the talk with the council. Such a short time after Qui-Gon's death, it seemed a doubly disparaging disgrace to have failed. 

His turmoiled heart was inwardly screaming for the support of his master which had become so natural and familiar over the years. He would have given him courage. He would have understood. He would . . . 

__

'Enough!' 

Obi-Wan called himself to order when he felt himself drowning in the painful memories once again. He could not afford that. Not now. 

No weakness. 

Not in front of the council. 

Not in front of anybody. 

continues


	4. IV

Circle of healing_4_black-white **__**

IV. 

__

Behind the walls of 

Thoughts there lyes, 

Something timeless 

Something wise. 

(Steve McDonald)

"You're the only one who can help, Jedi." 

The high priestess's words echoed dully in his ears. Obi-Wan walked restlessly up and down the carefully laid out herb garden of the temple. The sound his high boots produced on the little stones of the paths seemed deafeningly loud to him. 

How could he possibly help? Hadn't he just failed again? Hadn't he just proved that Qui-Gon's trust in him had been misplaced, that he was weak, weak and not able to take on the enormous responsibility he had been given? 

The talk with the council had been nearly as unpleasant as he had feared it would be. 

The soft cloth of memory was laid over his eyes as he thought about the events. 

__

"Troubled your mind is, Obi-Wan Kenobi." 

__

Those had been Yoda's first words after the young Jedi knight's bleary-eyed figure had completely shown itself as a holographic projection in the light-flooded halls of the Jedi-temple. Under the stern eyes of master Yoda and Mace Windu Obi-Wan had told them in a few words what had happened and had sunk back into a respectful waiting position. 

__

For a long time there had been silence. A silence Obi-Wan couldn't interpret and that made him nervous up to the very last nerve ending. 

__

"I hope you know that connections like this are strictly prohibited with non-Jedi, Kenobi?" Even Piell's voice cut sharply through the hall. 

__

"This I know, master." 

__

The eyes of all the council member were fastened on him and he couldn't get rid of the feeling of being condemned, even though he knew that he was doing the council an injustice. Connections like the one he had shared with the queen were a pure affront to the main directive of the Jedi not to meddle where they had not been invited. The queen hadn't invited him. 

__

"I do not know what happened, master." Even though it was the truth, the explanation sounded more than pathetic and Obi-Wan knew it. 

__

"Why were you with the queen, Kenobi?" 

__

A hot wave of shame climbed into his cheeks without him being able to control it. Why did they have to ask that question? He knew he had made a mistake. Why couldn't they just stop this unpleasant inquisition? 

__

"Not important this is now." To his great relief Yoda seemed to be in a compassionate mood today. The master cast a warning glance in Even Piell's direction and watched the hologram in front of him with great intent. 

__

How right Yoda had been with his first observation. His mind was troubled, indeed, and Obi-Wan knew exactly that Yoda wasn't the only one who was noticing it. The eyes of the old Jedi-master looked right into his soul even through the holographic projection and discovered what everyone else would have overlooked. 

__

"Guilty you feel." 

__

That was no question, it was an observation. Obi-Wan bent his head slightly. Not a yes, not a no. He waited for what else Yoda had to say. 

__

A sad smile crossed the wrinkled face of the small master. 

__

"Talk you must, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Not do it for you, I can. The question." He paused to get up and walk towards the hologram. "The question you need to ask." 

__

The tall, dark-skinned Jedi right beside him rose as well. 

__

"You came before us with the plea for help. Don't you, too, consider it rather rude to make us search for the question to which you seek an answer?" 

__

It wasn't so much what Mace Windu said, but much more the way he pronounced them, that made Obi-Wan nearly flinch. His shields had become weak and the members of the council seemed to have free access to his thoughts. 

__

With great effort he erected a new mental shield before he answered. What he had to say was not easy at all. 

__

"I didn't tell you everything, masters." 

__

Kenobi told them about the suspicion he had. While he was talking Yoda didn't let the hologram out of his eyes, he inspected it in every possible way and made Obi-Wan's confession even harder because of it. 

__

"Right I was", he said long after Kenobi had ended and silence had fallen over the hall once again. 

__

"Right about what, master?" 

__

The strained atmosphere had caused Obi-Wan to stand completely tense in front of the holographic projector. He wished nothing more but for this talk to finally come to an end. 

__

"Your feeling of guilt, Obi-Wan Kenobi", Mace Windu answered. "Even though you haven't talked about it - the force is troubled around you. You should have known better than to try to hide that from us. 

__

More disapproval of his conduct. From the moment he had started talking about what had happened he had received nothing but disapproving looks. What was there left to lose? The council considered him incapable of controlling his emotion. 

'They are right!' 

__

The realisation was like a slap in the face. He couldn't do it anymore. The control had slipped through his hands during the last days and he was standing divested in front of the council. 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and tried to regain some of the inner calm he had lost. 

__

"What can I do master?" 

__

Mace Windu and Yoda shared a knowing glance and Yoda hobbled back to his chair. Obviously this conversation was over for him. 

__

"You will return to the healer's temple, Obi-Wan Kenobi." 

__

The tall, authoritative man looked sternly at the bluish flickering hologram. 

__

"The preparations will be made when you return." 

'That was all?'_ Obi-Wan bit his tongue in the very last second to suppress the frustrated cry._

__

Mace Windu had to have felt the movement this incredulous thought had created in the force. 

__

"Find your way back, young knight." Had his voice only been stern before - now it was definitely ordering. A shadow flew over his face as he paused. 

__

"It is vital." 

__

He, too, returned to his seat. "May the force be with you." 

He slowly opened his eyes and found himself in the temple's herb garden. The priestesses had send him here to prepare himself. But for what? How in the will of the force could he help the queen. 

Her lifesigns were weak when he tenderly searched for her through the force. 

So weak. So young. 

Too young. 

With the help of the force their broken bond flickered to life for a few moments and he saw the queen walking towards an abyss. Then the flame that offered light died away and left him in the darkness of his own thoughts. 

Figures. 

Obi-Wan hung his head and sighed softly. He couldn't even hold the connection between them. 

How could he be the only one who could help her? It was impossible. The priestesses had to be wrong. But was the council wrong as well? 

He remembered having heard about the ritual that was being prepared. An ancient ritual, nearly as old as the whole Naboo-culture, maybe even older. No one could really say. There was grave danger in undertaking it, but also hope. Hope Obi-Wan hardly shared. 

He put his head in the neck and stared into the night sky from where billions of stars were shining their cold light upon him. 

__

'What am I supposed to do, master?' 

He did not get an answer. Not that he had expected anything different. 

The certainty of never ever getting an answer to a question like this, stabbed his heart like a red-hot sword and once again he drowned in an ocean of paralysing agony. 

"You need to come over here, Jedi." 

Reaja's voice led him softly through the hall. She pointed towards a wide, circle-like place in the middle of the temple's heart. 

The queen had been laid upon a thin cloth made of a soft blue material, matching the shade of the priestess's robes perfectly. The marble floor was surprisingly warm when he placed his naked feet on it. 

His eyes fastened on the queen's still figure. She was pale and in the middle of this huge hall she looked like a child. Her features were still, but Kenobi felt the disturbance in the force that was still swirling around her menacingly. 

Was he really up to this? 

He didn't ask himself that question for the first time since he had been told what he was to do. His mind wasn't nearly as quiet as it would have been necessary for a task like this. Nevertheless the council had refused to send someone else. 

__

"You're the only one who can help her, Jedi." 

Was he? The only one? Was that the reason that the council had seemed so grave? 

Meanwhile the priestesses had settled around him. The ritual washing was nothing particularly special, nevertheless Obi-Wan felt uneasy. 

Reluctantly he looked at Reaja, the only one among the priestesses that didn't make him feel like a criminal. Of course, not a single one of the priestesses would have said a single word about that to him, but he had been a Jedi long enough to not need words like that anymore. 

"Are you ready, Jedi Kenobi?" A novice was standing in front of him, holding a silver font containing the consecrated water. 

Again he searched for Reaja's eyes. She realised the young man's unease and instinctively she felt compassion well up inside of her. How strange this had to be for him. She left her place in the circle, stepped next to the high priestess and talked to her quietly. Reaja did not receive a friendly look, but her request was granted. 

With a single, elegant step she stood next to the novice and stretched out her hands for the silver font. The novice stared at her, startled, and looked to the high priestess, pleading for help. But the high priestess only nodded and sent the young woman back into the circle with a short movement of her hands. 

Reaja straightened her back against the slightly hostile atmosphere that had arisen from her stepping forward. 

"Your tunic, Jedi", she said with a clear and strong voice. 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and pulled the tunic over his head, standing with a bare chest in front of the priestesses now, quietly waiting for the washing that was about to take place. 

He had barely laid the tunic next to him, when a horrified murmuring went through the women standing behind him. Obi-Wan suppressed the desire to turn around and see what had happened. He needed to get rid of his inner restlessness, and this whispering behind his back wasn't really helping the matter any. 

"Jedi!" 

His eyes opened when he recognised the high priestess's stern voice. Her expression had changed. It was nearly mild now, more than concerned, to say the least. 

"Why didn't you inform us about that?" 

"About what, healer?" 

The woman pushed the air out between her teeth in surprise. 

"About what?" She shook her head in disbelief. "Tell me, Jedi Kenobi, do you not feel pain?" 

Pain? Pain about what? He had experienced enough pain, pain he would have given himself away to be spared of, but this pain was not physical. Could those healers look inside his soul? 

A cool hand was placed on his back, just below the shoulderblades. 

"Do you not feel pain, Jedi Kenobi?" the question was being repeated. 

Now that his attention had been pointed in the right direction, he felt something, indeed. It felt as though a blazing hot pain was emanating from the priestess's hand, which spread all over his back and caused cold sweat to appear on his forehead. It took him a long time to reach out to the force to suppress the pain to a tolerable level. 

"I do feel something, healer." 

His short pause was interpreted correctly by the healers. The consecrated circle was being disbanded, somebody handed him his tunic. Obi-Wan watched, confused, as the women hurried away. For some reason they suddenly seemed to be in a rush. 

He saw Reaja among the last ones who were leaving the hall. 

"What's going on here?", he asked, confusion written plainly on his face. 

Reaja looked up at him and shook her head sympathetic. "You should have told us about your condition, young master." 

"_Condition_? Healer, what is going on here? I don't know what you are talking about!" 

Once again Reaja stated: "Follow me, Jedi." 

She led him to a mirror, high as a man, in one of the adjacent rooms. "See for yourself, young master." 

Obi-Wan had been prepared for a lot of things when he looked into the mirror. The sight it showed him did not belong to them. 

His back was discoloured in black and blue from his shoulderblades downwards, here and there reddish brown encrusted wounds were prominent. He couldn't do much more than eliminate the morbid pleasure he found in looking at the sight of his own reflection. 

Where did those wounds come from? And the bruises? 

Kenobi stared into the mirror and thought hard. He couldn't remember where those injuries could have been inflicted. Yet they didn't seem to be fresh. His neck already started to protest against the unusual stance when he swirled around and dashed out of the room, leaving Reaja behind. 

The Sith. 

Of course! 

Obi-Wan wondered why he felt this pain only just now. The dark warrior had pushed him more than 50 meters into the precipice. He still was not quite clear about how he could have survived this fall, let alone be able to fight after it. For a few seconds - so Obi-Wan remembered - darkness had closed around him after the fall, and there had been no power left to transport the much needed air into his lungs. 

It had been Qui-Gon who had brought him back from the yawning abyss, giving him a part of his own life-force. 

Suddenly Kenobi knew with a horrible certainty that it had been this act of mercy that had caused Qui-Gon to not be able to fight the Sith. If all he got as a punishment were a few bruises, then Obi-Wan embraced them with grim happiness. 

"What will happen now, healer?", he asked Reaja who stood in the doorway and watched him quietly. 

She stepped out of the door's shadow. "The ritual will be postponed, young master. The queen still is in great danger, but we cannot allow you to go through with the ritual until you are perfectly healthy. The code of the ritual does not allow it." 

Kenobi inhaled and exhaled slowly and asked himself if he had misheard. They were not going to allow him to go through with the ritual because of a few bruises? They would put the queen's life at stake because of such a petty little matter? 

"Call the priestesses back, Reaja." 

The young Jedi spoke quietly, quite concerned about not venting his anger about this senseless regulation at Reaja. 

"Master?" 

Kenobi whirled around and looked her firmly in the eyes. "You heard me correctly, healer. I want you to call the priestesses back into the hall. I'm going to go through with this ritual." 

"But, young master, you cannot . . ." 

"Do not tell what I can do and what I can't." Obi-Wan knew that he was standing on the brink of cold anger. "I already lost one person close to me because I waited too long. I'm not going to lose a second one." 

With those words he left Reaja standing where she was and returned to the circle, knelt next to the queen and closed his eyes. A simple meditation mantra brought silence to his troubled thoughts. 

__

'There is no unrest, there is the force.' 

continues


	5. V

Circle of healing_5_black-white **__**

V.

__

When faced with my demons

I clothe them and feed them

And I smile, yes I smile

As they're taking me over

(Matthews/Roberts)

Each priestess joined the strange, unfamiliar chant - no real melody, rather some kind of meditative murmur in which single tones were woven in. Quiet flooded Obi-Wan's tired mind. Along this quiet came a warmth he hadn't dared to believe in anymore.

Once again he sat in the lotus position in the middle of the circle of priestess's, the queen's head cradled in his lap and his hands laying on her temples. To a bystander this may have looked like the picture of utter trust between two young people in love. Closer observation revealed the deep concentration of all involved in the ritual.

The queen's fragile body was even cooler than he had remembered it. The ritual white garments they had clad her in seemed much too fine and he regretted not being able to reach out with the force to share a little bit of his body-heat with her. But the high priestess had made that much clear: If he wanted to save the queen, he had to abstain from using the force, and all the abilities that came with it for as long as the ritual lasted. If he would reach to ist power, if he attempted to use it in any way - he would lose the queen.

Obi-Wan didn't like the thought. He was so used to the constant presence of the force in his life, that he was scared to suddenly be cut off from it. He remembered Yoda's favourite saying about this kind of fear and he tried to purge himself from all those negative emotions, before the ritual started. Nevertheless a nagging insecurity remained. 

The soft murmuring and chanting grew louder and shrouded Obi-Wan in a velvety cloke of words and tones that carried his thoughts with it and left behind his mind in perfect calm. His eyes closed and he started to sink.

***

The white desert was endless.

Padme still walked step by step through the high snowdrifts on the quest for something she wasn't sure she would ever find. She hardly recognised the cold that had found its place in her body any longer.

Everything had become numb, nothing made sense anymore. It grew difficult to form coherent thoughts, it was just as if her thoughts were being spread all over the distance and were taken away by the increasing wind.

One step.

Another step.

Deeper and deeper the ice-encrusted surface of the snow cut into her soft feet.

One step.

Another step.

If she concentrated on nothing else, she might arrive some time. Wherever she was walking.

One step. 

Another step.

The wind turned and seized her long hair, causing it to fly wildly around her face and making it impossible for her to see. She stopped for a few minutes to tame her hair. When she risked a glance on her feet, she felt a strange fascination ascent inside of her.

The spotless white snow began to turn red where she stood. Like the twigs of a tiny tree the red of her blood pulled through the crystal purity of the snow. Then again a flower formed itself, at last a scarlet star became visible in the perfect white.

So beautiful. So indescribably beautiful.

The gleaming purity blurred in front of her eyes and she lost consciousness.

***

The blinding brightness was still there. It penetrated her closed eyelids and brought back the painful truth of still being caught in the nightmare.

But one change was evident. She wasn't quite as horribly cold as she was before. Hadn't she given up the hope of ever finding another human being in this icy desert a long time? She would have sworn someone was sitting right beside her. 

She carefully tried to sit up. A piercing pain in her back caused her to fail. No matter how desperately she tried to remember what had happened and how she had gotten into this predominantly icy reality – it was no use. The brightness blinded more than just her eyes and the silence deafened her thoughts. A small defeated sight escaped her lips. She had had to be strong so many times, there had always been others who had depended on her, people who had placed the fate of the whole planet in her hands. 

But now, when the thing she needed most was someone she could look up to, someone who was strong for her and gave her back her strength and her bravery – she was as terribly alone as she had ever been before in her whole life. 

The wind picked up even more and exposed her to another biting wave of cold. The warmth she had imagined to be there was being carried away and left a painful emptiness behind. 

Padme didn't know how much longer she would be able to endure this. Fatigue gnawed at her. Sleep promised deceitful safety. But even if the safety was deceitful - what difference did it make? The hope she had been clinging to so wildly in the beginning had now died away like a fragile flower in the midday heat. 

Suddenly the wind lost some of its power and the warmth returned.

Was it more than a hallucination? Who was there?

She kept her eyes closed tightly, too much pain was caused by the blinding light, and she feared what she would see. Whatever it was - it didn't make any noises, just then and then she heard deep intakes of breath. What if a wild animal had found her? Wasn't it more sensible to pretend to be dead? But if it really was a wild animal, wouldn't it move much noisier? What sense was there for it to move so silently?

Her nearly frozen hands moved reluctant and shaking in the general direction of the radiating warmth. Her heart beat so fast that she thought she would go insane from the constant hammering. Her stomach had contracted into a single ball of fear.

Her hands had barely reached an obstacle, when they were seized and put under a heavy cloth together with the rest of her body, shielding her from the cold.

A familiar smell radiated from the cloth. A certain heaviness, accompanied by unobtrusive strength. Two strong hands started to tuck her under the cloth like a mummy. She couldn't feel any violating thoughts behind those actions, but nevertheless she started to squirm when she felt a slight claustrophobia coming up.

"Do not move just yet, your majesty."

The soft voice that was dominated by strong accent sent a wave of enrapturing, nearly intoxicating relief and safety through her mind. Without paying any attention to the tender protests she sat up, grasped the hand that belonged to the voice and put it on her cheek. At the very least - this was real. She gingerly leaned into the touch and ventured an overly careful glance out of her hurting eyes. The face she saw would itself into her brain forever. 

"Jedi Kenobi."

***

They had been walking side by side for quite some time now, in which he had to support the queen more and more. The shreds of his tunic that they had meagrely wound around her bare feet didn't have the wanted effect, quite the opposite actually. They became wet and slowed the young woman's steps even more.

Padme wasn't used to the constant cold. Naboo didn't have anything like real winters and due to the time she had already spent here and that had weakened her more than she was ready to admit, she couldn't even try to cope with it. The cold claimed its tribute.

The wind had grown into a storm they couldn't escape anymore. The plain didn't provide any safety, no hideaway to avoid the cruelly cold squalls. The only thing that was for sure was the fact that they needed some kind of protection from the storm if they wanted to survive.

Obi-Wan had heard many things about the ritual, had read about it, but this was nothing like what he had imagined. What did he have to do to save the queen's life? Was he strong enough to make it?

The queen stumbled over a snowdrift and dropped to her knees before he could catch her. One look into her glassy eyes told him that they had gone too far already. Much too far for her condition. 

Why hadn't he realised that she had become weaker, that every single step held pure agony for her?

He painfully missed the force. This surely wouldn't have happened had he had full access to the force. But he hadn't.

"We stay here."

It was the least he could do under these circumstances.

***

Padme watched with an indifferent face as the young Jedi started to dig a hole in the snow.

Her world consisted only of pain and cold, rational thoughts were gone and she yearned for the soft arms of unconsciousness. Maybe everything would happen really fast and she wouldn't even realise the exact time she died from exposure.

Right in the middle of a wave of those thoughts she was interrupted by the Jedi taking her gently in his arms and placing her in the hole as carefully as he could. After that he started to erect a dome-shaped roof over it.

She watched him with numbed interest. A part of her was fascinated by the skilfulness the young man displayed in adapting to the surroundings, but the other part of her was just too exhausted to appreciate it fully.

When there was only a small opening left that led to the side that was facing away from the wind, Obi-Wan pushed himself in the small cave and closed this opening until there was only a small hole that would provide them with enough air. This self-made cave would barely save them from dying from exposure, but at least it kept them safe from the storm that was already howling around the walls of their little fortress menacingly.

The queen was still awake when Obi-Wan carefully touched his hands to the snowroof.

"What will happen now, Jedi Kenobi?"

Her words nearly drowned in the howling of the storm.

'I wished I knew an answer to that question', Obi-Wan thought. Instead he said: "You should try to get a little sleep, your highness. You need to rest."

Padme pulled the Jedi's cloak up to her chin. "It's so cold." 

"I know."

"What about you?", she asked after a while.

"About me, your highness?"

Obi-Wan didn't know what she was aiming at. The queen pointed her chin towards the cloak in which she was safely wrapped. "I mean, I took . . ."

Kenobi shook his head in dismissal. "You were in greater need of it than I was."

The answer was unsatisfactory.

"Does that make you immune to the cold?"

Of course it didn't. How could it? But under no circumstance he could have kept wearing his cloak while the fine material of the ceremonial white garments was her only protection against the forces of nature. Couldn't she see that herself?

Padme guessed that this answer would remain unanswered. Sure, she was grateful for his noble action, but a bad conscience remained nevertheless.

It was plain to see that the Jedi was freezing. But remembering the headstrong way he had in leading discussions, she knew that it would make little sense to argue about that. For some reason Padme was fairly certain that the Jedi would be the last one standing in a discussion like that.

"Couldn't we share it?"

Obi-Wan slowly turned around and just looked at her. This glance made her regret that she had ever asked.

"I . . . I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . . "

"Your offer is honourable, your highness. But I have to refuse."

__

'Oh? Do you?'

He tried to quieten the voice in the back of his head and tried his best to give the queen a reassuring smile, even though that was probably the farthest thing from his mind. He was freezing, felt utterly helpless and had little hope left. But something was prohibiting him from accepting the queen's offer, no matter how tempting the thought of as little more warmth may be.

It took him a long time to find the inner calm to finally fall asleep. 

***

Saying or even thinking she knew what time of day it was would have been the most shameful lie in a long time. The gleaming hadn't even stopped during the time her body made her believe it was night. There didn't seem to be any darkness here, no shadow, not even the slightest indication of a shade in the light. 

Brightness. Blinding. Gleaming. Painful.

They had resumed their walk, whether because of hoping to find a way out of the icy desert or just for remaining the status quo, Padme didn't know.

Kenobi didn't talk.

An eternity had passed since their last conversation and the constant silence began to strain her already overtaxed nerves. Just a few days ago she never would have imagined to be able to suffer that much from the simple sounds of footsteps and a long absence of a conversation.

But out here the urge to hear a human voice became a condition that was similar to a withdrawal symptom. Despite the fact that she had to rely on his physical presence more and more to not stumble, there was nothing in his demeanor that would have made enduring all this any easier. Inwardly she scolded herself for not behaving appropriate for a queen, for not being stronger, for behaving like a silly child. She couldn't let herself go like this.

With every dragging footstep she found new reasons for not venting the feelings that were piling up inside of her.

When she stumbled over a snow-covered notch in the ice for the umpteenth time, she stopped and pushed Kenobi's arm away so hard that he nearly fell.

"I'm not going to do this any longer!" Her voice was as hard and cold as the wind over the desert. Obi-Wan stared into the sparkling brown eyes with amazement. Padme didn't avert her eyes, but locked her gaze with the Jedi's, dared him, indicted him. 

An extremely strong wind caught Obi-Wan's tunic and ripped away what little warmth he had managed to produce while walking. Involuntarily he hugged himself close. The movement broke their gaze.

"Your highness?" He couldn't find an explanation for the sudden wave of hostility he felt radiating off of the queen.

"Don't look at me as if you didn't know what I was talking about!"

Obi-Wan raised his eyes again to look at the queen questioningly. "I don't, your highness."

Padme herself couldn't understand completely where this piled up anger was coming from, but she got the feeling as if a pressure valve had been opened and she couldn't find a way to close it again. 

"I'm tired of hiding my feelings. I'm tired of being lonely and having to bear all the responsibility. I'm tired of your silence. I'm tired of this place and the cold. I'm . . ." She walked a few steps away from him, instantly stumbling due to the lack of the physical support he had offered before. 

Padme sank to her knees and hit her fists angrily into the snow. In her throat a load scream begged to be released.

Obi-Wan watched the scene with growing irritation. He hadn't spotted the signs of such a load of pent-up emotions in the queen, quite the opposite. So far she had endured everything with such a stoic calm that he admired her in silence.

But this . . . Was as unexpected as it was strong. A wave of anger swashed in his direction and rolled toward him with frightening speed. Why was she so terribly upset? What had triggered it?

Carefully he ventured a few steps in her direction, always being painfully aware that an unexpected movement could bring more of her anger to the surface.

"What's wrong with you, great Jedi? Do I scare you? Doesn't that fit into your pretty picture of me?"

He sank into the snow next to her and felt how cold it was even through the material of his breeches.

"Yes, your highness. It scares me."

Her gaze traveled restlessly between his face and the white desert.

"Why?"

Was this a serious question? Was it possible that she didn't know why the darkness that she was emanating scared him and shook his very soul?

"You will answer me this time, Jedi."

Padme watched the scenery strangely unattached from the outside. She could feel her mouth moving, she heard the words that were spoken in their crystal clear power, but she couldn't explain where they were coming from. Every single word hurt Kenobi in a way she never willingly would have . . .

"The darkness, your highness", Kenobi interrupted her racing thoughts. "You emanate darkness." The horrible power of the words caused him to shiver slightly.

"The anger and the fear inside of you are opening your mind to the dark side of the force." On a whim he reached out for her hand and looked at her imploringly. "Don't let yourself drown in those emotions. Don't stray from the path of the light."

She pulled her hand away and gave a short, humorless laugh. "This advise is coming from you, Jedi Kenobi? Of all the people, it's coming from you?"

The pained expression that he couldn't suppress fast enough showed her that her last sentence had had a full and crushing impact.

"And the path of the light?" With a wild movement of her right arm she embraced her surroundings. "If this is the light you're talking about, Jedi Kenobi, then I don't see why I shouldn't leave it. Which mercy, which quiet, which peace and which happiness lies in the light?"

Still squinting against the never-ending brightness she glared at him.

"This light keeps none of its promises. It is cold and hostile to life. Do they teach you that as well in your precious Jedi-temple? Do they teach you that the light can be just as cruel as the darkness? Do they teach you to endure everything this light asks of you? Do they teach you, Jedi Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan's head was ringing under the bulk of questions that were being shot at him, half spoken, half yelled. He had been taught to handle situations like this. The best defenses against attacks like this were friendliness and calm. And everything would have been so much easier, had this advise been given to another person. But it was his task to solve the situation and he felt helplessly on the mercy of his own mind. The burning passion behind the queen's words rattled him thoroughly.

"We are being taught to submit and give ourselves to the light completely", he answered simply.

A change flickered in the queen's eyes.

"How did you feel when this submission meant seeing Qui-Gon die?"

Padme suddenly was scared of herself. She had had this hidden sword in the back of her hand all the time. But never – never had she intended to use it.

The effect was correspondingly devastating. Obi-Wan's calm and quiet mask slipped and left behind white-hot pain that was written plainly all over his face.

Still caught in the unreal state that prohibited a willing control of her actions, Padme could only watch this powerful sword of words slashing Kenobi's heart with a frightening precision.

"What gives you the right?", Kenobi squeezed out between clenched teeth.

His eyes were nearly black from pain and suppressed rage. He rose and walked a few steps in the icy desert. There his knees gave way and he sank to the ground - his head cradled in his hands.

***

When she left the unreal state of mind she had been trapped in, Padme felt the undeniable urge to run towards the Jedi and wrap her arms around him in a feeble attempt to make even all the things she had said when she hadn't been in control of herself.

If this was possible at all, the simple but deep-set sentence had destroyed even more in Obi-Wan Kenobi. The snow, carried by the wind, had piled up around his legs and he was no longer moving.

With his head on his knees and the torn tunic fluttering wildly around him, he looked like a grotesque statue that had been placed there by an eccentric artist to find out if it would hold its ground against the wrath of nature.

Even without the help of the connection they had shared, she had felt the darkness embracing him in an attempt to devour him. There was only so little left that separated him from losing himself completely.

Tear of anger were burning in her eyes.

This was her fault.

Like so often before she had just made matters worse, had destroyed all the efforts he had made so far.

His suppressed question echoed in her mind. "What gives you the right?"

Well, what? What gave her the right to act as his judge? What gave her the right to doubt and make fun of everything he believed in?

She rose shakily and ventured a few steps in his direction – but she stood rooted to the spot before she reached him. Now what? What could she possibly say to overcome the last moments? 

__

'I'm sorry, Jedi Kenobi, I didn't mean it?' A bitter laugh rose inside of her. Because that would be so much of a help. He would feel so much better after hearing her say this.

The cold got even more unbearable by the minute. It was nearly as if it was accumulating to drain her of her last bit of strength.

Something got her attention and rattled her deeply.

The fine snow-flakes on his hands and his hair weren't melting anymore. "There is no need for you to worry, your highness." His voice was barely audible over the howling of the storm. He kept on being completely motionless, but her unspoken question – her worst nightmare – had been answered.

She didn't quite understand why he had known of her worries, but that wasn't important now. Exhaustion, cold and the inner strife began to take their toll.

The snow fell more slowly and the storm began to die down. Soon there was only a soft breeze left that swept over her frozen features nearly tenderly. Just as her mother used to do. Just as her mother . . .

"Far too seldom, wasn't it, your highness?"

Padme shook her head against the voice that suddenly invaded her mind and raised the fawn-coloured eyes.

"I beg your pardon?"

When had the Jedi taken up the annoying habit of speaking in riddles? Wasn't everything complicated enough already?

"You would have liked them to be there for you more often, right?"

She listened to the Jedi's words with a tension that arose from the fact of sensing that the following sentences could hurt her more than she could take.

__

'Stop this.'

But nevertheless: Even though, or maybe just because of the danger, she found herself captivated by his words and the penetrating glance of his now icy-blue eyes.

__

'End this right now!'

No chance of evading.

__

'But why? What does it matter?'

But also no will to evade. She had to hand him the stone that would be her downfall.

__

'Don't let it happen. Don't give him this much power over you.'

Nothing stopped her. "Who, Jedi?"

"Your mother. Friends. Anybody. Anybody who would have chased away the loneliness. Anybody who would have filled the emptiness inside of you."

She had known it. She had been prepared for it and every single part of her being had screamed and protested against allowing him to take this last step. Then why was she so surprised by the enormous power of the pain those simple words revealed? 

The world around her grew quiet and peaceful. The gleaming became a little weaker and lost some of its relentlessness.

"Do you see the snow-flakes, Jedi Kenobi?" She put her head back and felt how single flakes drifted to her face. With a featherlight touch they laid down to die only seconds later.

"They come to me even though it is their death." She held out her hand and watched the same things happening there. "My touch brings them death. But nevertheless they keep coming to me."

A smile played around her pale lips. "Isn't that a beautiful metaphor for my life?"

Her eyes had lost all the hate and the open rage Obi-Wan had seen there shortly before. Clear and sparkling they watched the growing snow-flakes dreamily. A strange calm was radiating off of the queen – just like the perfect calm in the middle of a severe storm. Peaceful and untouched, nearly happy – but even because of those facts as morbid and terrifying as nothing else. The words died on Obi-Wan's lips. Nothing he could have said seemed appropriate to him.

"But maybe . . ." Her voice broke and she looked into the snowy plains pensively. "Maybe it is different this time."

She rose with a royal movement. "Maybe Qui-Gon will be the last one who suffered from this curse."

The mentioning of his mentor's name caused Obi-Wan to freeze in his movements.

__

'Why?'

Inwardly he screamed in frustration. He had just managed to push aside all the dark waves. Why did she manage to destroy everything by just mentioning his name?

His head and his back started to hurt when a hard gust of wind hit him like a brutal punch and drove tiny snow-flakes like needles into his eyes. It took a while until he could see at least vaguely painlessly.

When he looked up the next time, the queen was gone. Only half blown away traces were left in the snow.

continues


	6. VI

Circle of healing_6_black-white **__**

VI.

You go there, you're gone forever

I go there I'll lose my way

If we stay here we're not together

Anywhere is

(Roma Ryan)

***

__

The temple had sunk into an impenetrable darkness. Only the big hall in the inner recesses of the temple was lit by the strange light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

The circle of priestesses was still kept close, but the women looked exhausted, their faces appeared pale and overfatigued. 

From time to time a novice brought a carafe with water and let her gaze wander curiously and a little enviously over the women who knelt in the consecrated circle. The ritual was forbidden to the novices who had not been initiated into the mysteries of the temple - it held too many dangers. The oldest and most mysterious ritual on the whole planet of Naboo. 

Naara shivered reverently as she watched the priestesses sink into trance. 

The last cycle of the ritual had started. 

***

__

Hesitant, warm touches on cool skin. Soft, like angel's wings. Tender, yet hardly perceptible. Too light to be pushing, yet not perceptible enough to quell the yearning for more. 

Padme didn't perceive her surroundings anymore. Though she was still moving forward, she couldn't tell how long she had been walking, or why she was walking or why she didn't stop. 

Caught in the pictures that displayed themselves in front of her inner eye, trapped in the feelings, the impulses that wandered through her mind and didn't give her any rest. She yearned to find the source of those feelings but couldn't find it. 

__

Soft, yet strong. Seizing possession, yet never demanding. 

Desperation surged inside of her. How was she supposed to take this uncertainty? 

Padme closed her eyes to reality and walked on blind. Her movements became stoic and ever so slightly jerky. Her body was giving up while her mind still fought. 

__

Warm touches on nearly frozen cheeks. Exuding safety and peace. 

She didn't see the crevice that was running through the ice and which rapidly ripped the snow covered surface. The howling of the wind drowned the soft sighs of the bursting ice that raced up to her. 

***

Why didn't she get out of the way? Didn't she see? 

Obi-Wan stared horrified at the crevasse that was building in the ice, and which headed for the queen with deadly precision. 

"Your Majesty!" His scream was seized by the wind and didn't reach her. 

This couldn't happen. They had survived the icy desert without any further aid and now she would fall victim to a crevasse in the ice? Only because he wasn't fast enough _again_? 

This mustn't happen. He wouldn't let her fall. 

Kenobi mobilised all the powers that were left in his weakened body and fell into a dead run towards the queen. His thoughts were racing. She had to get away from there or the crevasse would swallow her any minute now. Didn't she see? Didn't she want to see? Why had he taken part in a ritual that didn't allow him to use the force? It would have been so easy to push her out of the way, away from the danger. 

Trying to run fast in the deep snow was more difficult than he had expected. After a few meters he was already out of breath, his sides ached and his legs felt like lead. 

How could his body dare betray him now? 

***

__

The touches became softer. More enticing. So much more gentle. 

__

"Open your eyes, child of my soul." 

Padme started painfully. She had been concentrating on the feelings so much that the sudden sound of the voice was like a splash of cold water. Where did this voice come from? What had she . . . 

__

"Open your eyes, child of my soul." 

No, she didn't recognise this voice. Yet it was as if it had its origins in her very soul. 

Hesitantly she followed the plea. 

What she saw filled her with vague fear, but the fear was nearly drowned by the fascination she felt. 

In front of her an aurora of blue, glowing light had formed. Snow and ice lost their cold and started glowing warmly from a strange, inner light. The cloud cover broke up and revealed a bright blue burning sky. A light that could destroy the world as she knew it. The power it radiated was inconceivable and could not be put into words. 

The constricting fear she had felt just moments ago was washed away when realisation softly dawned on the queen. This was nothing she had to be afraid of. 

The aurora was old. 

Ancient. 

Older than Naboo. 

Maybe older than the universe. It held a power that was bigger than anything she would ever be able to grasp with her mind, but Padme didn't mind. A smile stole forth on her lips. 

__

"Child of my soul." The voice was everywhere now. 

***

"Amidala!" Obi-Wan's desperate cry was once again drowned by the raging of the storm. 

He, too, had seen how the blue glowing had started to close around the queen. For a short moment their link had flared up with an unknown force and he had felt her fascination and her fear. 

He had nearly reached her now. Only a few steps separated him from her fragile figure which nearly drowned in his robe. All thoughts of cold and pain were forgotten in that moment - Obi-Wan lost himself in the picture in front of him. 

The queen stood strong and sure in front of the rapidly closing aurora. 

He was close to her - so close that he could see the soft glowing of the blue light on her cheeks. It filled her and consumed her, soon her whole body was glowing in this light. 

Fear clamped its iron fist around Obi-Wan's heart. She had to get away from here. The light would hurt her, didn't she see? Was her own life of such little importance to her? 

"Amidala," he pleaded softly. 

The storm had died down and even though he was still a few steps away from her, he could hear her calm breathing. The silence was frightening. 

"Your Majesty," he tried again when she didn't react. "You need to get away from here. You will get hurt otherwise." 

An ethereal smile was on her lips when she turned to face him. "Are you afraid, Jedi Kenobi?" 

***

While he still pondered the meaning of her words for him, the crevasse broke up and the ice under him subsided with an ugly crunching noise. It all happened so sudden that Obi-Wan staggered and nearly would have fallen. He came back to a relative safe standstill with wildly flailing arms. 

"Amidala!" 

Every thought of his own safety was forgotten. Further tremors rocked the ice under him. The silence was pierced by the soft moans and sighs of the bursting ice. 

__

'No! No!' 

The crevasse between him and the queen became broader. Deeper. If he didn't do something quickly, jumping would be an impossible task. 

His eyes locked with hers. "Your Majesty, please!" 

Why was he still pleading with her? Only a few heartbeats separated her from _two_ dangers. The blue aurora _and_ the crevasse. 

__

'Do something!' 

The fear of failure nearly rooted him to the spot. At the same time he felt immense anger rising inside himself. He wouldn't make it anymore. He wouldn't be able to jump in time. She would die, just like . . . 

__

'No!' 

Rage, anger and despair collided so intensely that for a few moments they gave him the power he needed to make a headlong dive over the crevasse that was nearly insuperable by now. But while still in mid dive, he felt the doubts returning - with the result of him losing some of what had given him the much needed power. 

He crashed hard on the splintered ice and found it hard to suck back in the breath that had been pushed out of his lungs. Obi-Wan tasted blood, and his knees and wrists exploded in burning pain that made him wish for a faint. The world around him was dominated by the blue light. 

"Amidala!" 

What had supposed to become a yell ended in a wretched croak. His eyes widened horror-stricken and he desperately tried to get back on his feet to help her. The aurora circled the queen nearly completely by now, without the queen moving even a single step outside the dangerous area. The ethereal smile on her face gave her a nearly celestial beauty. 

How could she stay so calm, facing such a danger? 

With a scream Obi-Wan dashed for the aurora and was - barely having touched it - thrown back by such an enormous force that it surprised him that his body didn't just break in two. Without a halt, without even the slightest control over his body, which consisted only of white hot agony and hurt in so many places that he couldn't even name the different locations anymore, he fell. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi had fallen before in his life. He had lost his hold and had crashed. But nothing compared to this. 

The fall itself was relatively long. He fell in a clear stomach-turning line that was only broken by a small ledge of jagged ice. Boundless panic washed over him. This couldn't happen. He mustn't be here while the queen's life was in danger. 

With the power of uncounted hours of Jedi-training he reached for the next higher ledge. His hands, though only barely warmer than the ice, caused the surface to melt slightly. His fingers slipped and he fell again. This time the fall was short. The ledge where his feet had been standing, was now taken over by his hands. Due to the abrupt fall the fingernails of his right hand were ripped off with a surprisingly _organic_ sound and a new wave of burning pain shot through him - so strong that he nearly would have let go. 

A look upwards revealed to him that the glowing - if at all possible - had grown more intense. Over the hammering of his own heart he barely heard the further bursting of the ice anymore. A vague feeling of _deja vu _flickered in the back of his mind. Hadn't he been hanging helplessly over a precipice before? 

And how, _how_ had he managed to come out of it? 

He didn't hear the voice when it called for him the first time. It came to his ear only slowly. 

"Let go." 

Obi-Wan clenched his eyes shut and shook his head. Had he really heard what he just believed to have heard? This muscles in his arms already started to shake from the unusual strain. 

"You need to let go." 

The voice smoothed his thoughts that were rolling like whispering mercury and brought them into a complete whole once more. Warm, soft and velvetlike it reminded him of hot mead that brought a most agreeable heaviness with it. 

"Let go, Jedi Kenobi." 

The words died down to a whisper and instinctively he raised his eyes back to where the queen was fighting for her life. Fighting? 

But she didn't fight! 

She never had! 

The glowing became unbearable. The last thing Obi-Wan saw from the depth of the crevasse was the light closing around the queen completely. 

__

"NO!" 

His scream shrilled unheard through the deep gorges in the eternal ice. 

***

TBC


	7. VII

Circle of healing_7_black-white **__**

VII.

You'd think I'd learned by now

There's never an easy way

(Paul Godfrey)

***

__

The aurora tenderly enveloped Padme with warm, motherly feelings. The burning blue licked at the heavy cloak Kenobi had given her and vaporised it completely_._ No sound was audible when the shining reached the ceremonial gown. 

Not completely vanished fear welled up inside of her. When the light burned her gowns with such ease - what assured her that it wouldn't burn her body with same ease? 

The thin wrap that lay on her shoulders disintegrated. She stayed in the middle of the aurora, in the middle of the icy desert, now only clad in the delicate white dress which clung softly to the curves of her slim body. 

The cold had disappeared. But the doubts returned. 

What was going to happen? Was she going to burn? 

__

"Don't be afraid, child of my soul." 

As though triggered by the words, leaden fatigue began to creep up her spine - pain, worries and fear of the past time left her like melting shadows. Deep inside of her a quiet voice asked worriedly for Kenobi, a barely audible whisper against the roaring of the silence. 

Barely audible - but audible. 

__

"His time will come, child of my soul ", her unvoiced question was being answered. 

Those were the last words she would hear. The light reached for her and she reached for the light, a strangely symbiotic act she wasn't completely aware of. When it finally touched her skin, the touch was hot and cold at the same time, brought pain and relief, fatigue and wakening, confusion and understanding. Soft, yet strong a wave of the blue light surged into her mind and the world around her vanished as she drank the light like the elixir of life, breathed it in, absorbed it. 

A last blue pulsing flare – then nothing. 

***

Kenobi hung with closed eyes on the last ledge in the ice that kept him from falling into the yawning abyss. His heart hammered wildly against his ribcage, his breath was ragged and strangely flat. A dangerous numbness started spreading in his arms. 

__

Too slow. 

Questions shot through his head as he leant his forehead lightly against the unforgiving cold. How could this possibly have happened? How? Why did he fail? Why couldn't he keep those people safe, who had been put under his wings, whom he was responsible for? 

__

Too slow. 

His thoughts wandered towards the child that had been given into his responsibility. Qui-Gon had trusted him with Anakin's training, had asked him for it with his last breath. But how could he train the boy? How could he teach him to become a Jedi when he kept failing over and over again? When he failed miserably? It would be so much better for Anakin, if Mace Windu would take over his training. A wise man. A man who was stronger, who knew how to fulfil his missions, who didn't fail. 

A glance upwards revealed to him that the blue light had vanished - and the queen as well. There was nothing but the continuing gleaming of the light on the snowy surface. The last flicker of hope died down. 

__

Too slow. 

Was he worth being called a Jedi-knight when he wasn't even capable of fulfilling the most simple of all tasks? He only would have had to keep her safe. Nothing more. If he had finished his mission, she would be alive by now. 

__

Too slow. 

The realisation hurt a thousand times worse than any bodily wounds ever could have. 

__

Too slow. 

As he once more fastened his gaze on the ledge in the ice, where his bloody hands clung to, he didn't see the fine schisms right away. Only when single drops of blood penetrated the schisms and interlaced the crystal like ice with a fine red cobweb, realisation dawned. 

He was going to fall. 

For an endless moment panic washed over him so fiercely that his hands cramped around the ice. 

Fear. 

It was as brutally real as the pain in his arms, haunted him in every single movement of his eyes and every single twitch of his muscles. Fear in its most simple, clearest and cleanest form. 

Fear. The path to the dark side. 

Even before he could finish the thought, the ice he had clung to with such desperation broke and he tumbled into the endless abyss, crashed against sharp-edged jags in ice and irreality that broke his back and his mind and denied him the mercy of losing consciousness. The pain of the injuries and the pain of failure boiled up to a single, silent scream. 

"Master!" 

He knew what would follow inevitably. This fall contained no hope of survival. Nevertheless he feared Qui-Gon's disappointment more than his own death. 

__

***

From her hiding place behind one of the big folding-doors Naara saw movement return to the circle of the priestesses. The light became brighter and the melody that had sounded throughout the whole ritual became distinctly audible once more. The slender form of the Jedi in the middle of the circle collapsed suddenly and sank towards the smooth marble floor. It seemed strange to Naara that even while falling he kept his hands around the queen in a protective manner. 

As holy as the mood had been during the last days - right now it seemed to Naara as if all the tension had left the priestesses. 

A group of five acolytes scurried past the tall girl - too concentrated to notice Naara. Her heart hammered fast, knowing all too well that she was doing what was not allowed. But the unrestrained curiosity had always been one of Naara's greatest weaknesses. So she stood rooted to the spot in the small chamber behind the door, unable to avert her eyes. 

Impatiently and with a racing heart she hoped for an inscrutable gesture, a miracle, maybe she just waited for the walls to start speaking. 

Carefully she poked her nose back out of the chamber and watched the ongoing events. 

__

***

Dreams. Everlasting dreams. Not dark and maddening but soft and friendly. No plot, just warm feelings. It felt like a bodiless drifting, clear of fear, far away from sorrows and pain. The opaque haze that embraced everything nearly imperceptibly intensified the feeling of security. But the haze wouldn't stay. Nothing was meant for eternity. So the slow waking process became a soft drifting from dream into reality. 

***

Reaja felt a strange feeling of elation rise in her as she realised the spark of life returning to the queen. 

The ritual hadn't been practised for generations and the dispute about the dangers that lay in it had taken the close group of the elders a long time to discuss. But then there had been the Jedi council with a plea that could not be refused and a faith that Reaja hadn't shared in the beginning. 

The young Jedi - Kenobi - had taken up great danger, when he insisted on going through with the ritual. There were reasons for why one of those involved had to be completely healthy to make it successful. But it hadn't been her decision and the Jedi with his self-controlled and exceedingly calm way had been more persuasive than she had ever thought possible. Nevertheless . . . 

Just in the moment he collapsed, Reaja feared the worst. Worry for the Jedi flooded her heart so strong that she had to use all her strength to restrain herself from dashing to his side and checking his condition. The young man had no idea what he had gotten himself into. 

He could lose his life. 

Or far worse - he could lose more. 

He could stay alive. With a soul that was so destroyed that he would never find peace again, would never be himself again. 

She pushed back the horrifying images and shifted her attention towards the ritual that had come close to its end. The priestesses rose slowly and started to close the circle tightly. Every single woman had her designated place. It was now just the way it had been for centuries. Every movement was in accordance to the ritual, every breath was designated and full of meanings. 

She was surprised how little fear she felt about making mistakes. Maybe it was just the long time she had already been at the temple or maybe it was just the security that lay in such correctly designated actions. One priestess after the other raised a hand to describe protective runes over the queen's still body. The runes were ancient and barely anyone remembered them outside the temple, but in their way they were fitted perfectly for the priestess who described it. The wisdom to use the different abilities and special gifts of the priestesses involved in this ritual and thus channel the incredible power awed her. 

Power, bravery, faith, compassion, strength, calm, balance, determination, humour . . . 

She was so sunken into watching the progress of the ongoing ritual that she didn't realise the slight pause at first. Only the horrified glance of one acolyte standing next to her outside the circle brought back to her mind, that this pause had been caused by her. 

She was the last link in the circle, the last rune - the one of hope and motherly love - it had to come from her. Her cheeks flushed hotly. The holiest of all rituals and she had caused a flaw! Hurriedly she described her symbol over the queen and sank to her knees next to the others, to spread the soft blue cloth the acolytes had brought over the fragile body. 

She ignored the looks that were cast at her. What had happened, had happened and there was not a thing she could do to change the past. Luckily she had caught herself in time, so the ritual wouldn't be endangered. Nevertheless this incident wouldn't acquire her a good reputation among the older priestesses. She managed to get her thoughts back to the things happening in front of her just in time. 

The melody the priestesses had begun to sing was different from the one before and sounded strong and harmonious in the high vaults of the temple. The cloth wrapped itself around the queen's body. For a short moment the room was being filled by an intense blue shining - then it disappeared as soon as it had appeared. 

The cloth had vanished. 

But on the queen's face was a fine, pale-bluish glow. When the paleness vanished it combined with her skin and left it behind radiant and fresh, as if she was shining from the inside for a few moments. 

Then her youthful features relaxed and she slipped into a deep, blissful sleep. 

There was only one step missing. Reaja sighed and looked at the sunken form of the young man who still had his hands around the queen in a heart-warming protective manner. 

Kenobi. 

What followed now was her responsibility. 

It was determined by her rune. 

***

TBC


	8. VIII

Circle of healing_8_black-white **__**

VIII.

Well the moon is broken

And the sky is cracked

The only things that you can see

Is all that you lack

(Waits/Brennan)

***

Dark clouds moved over the pale-silver disk of the moon in the sky as the healer-priestess allowed her eyes to move away from the unmoving figure of the young man in front of her. A cold gust of wind came through the open windows and caused her to shiver. Next to her the priestesses got ready to move the queen into another part of the temple. 

It stayed a mystery for Reaja why the other priestesses could hold such an open grudge against the Jedi even now, after the ritual was finished. They should have felt what he was going through, should have seen that he wasn't any more guilty than any given person. 

But that had always been one of the problems in the temple. The novices weren't coming up fast enough, and even though the profession of a healer was very highly regarded in Naboo's society, only very few of the young women took the responsibilities that came along with the life of a healer priestess. What happened, was inevitable. The older priestesses with their rigid feeling for moral and values that arose from their generation were the hard core of the temple's hierarchy and influenced the view on this particular problem. For them Kenobi remained responsible for everything that had happened so far. 

For a few moments the moon vanished completely behind the dark clouds that promised rain, and the room that had been scarcely lit for the ritual was bathed in a cool semi-darkness. 

Under her hands that lay quietly on the Jedi's forehead she felt the muscles of his eyes move rapidly. The convulsions soon began to spread all over the Jedi's body. His jaw tightened and she felt him start. Every single one of his muscles cramped so badly that it hurt Reaja to just look at it. 

On a quick gesture a novice brought her a glass phial. The girl had never heard about complications like the ones she witnessed here and she pondered calling for the high priestess. But just looking at Reaja told her that it wasn't necessary. The priestess was small, even for a Naboo. She had bedded the Jedi's head safely in her lap and put her hands on his temples in a reassuring gesture, while her long black hair that was lined with fine silvery grey streaks fell forward and hid her face. 

Even though she stayed calm on the outside, Reaja's mind was troubled. She, too, didn't know of such complications, but she knew that she was responsible for Kenobi. Carefully she let her eyes travel over the cramped up bundle in her lap. Droplets of blood poured from under his fingernails, even though she could not find an injury. 

The clouds outside the window wandered and for a short period of time the moon lit up Kenobi's face. 

Ashen and with deep dark rings under his eyes he looked more like a ghost than like a living, breathing being. Reaja shivered. She had never taken part in this ritual - it hadn't been practised in far too long a time, but was all of this really part of the ritual? 

She clearly felt that something stopped Kenobi from waking. Would he understand her when she talked to him? Reaja decided that it couldn't do any harm to at least try. 

She reached for Obi-Wan's hand that was clawed into his tunic and murmured softly: "Let go." 

Her words seemed to free elemental forces out of their bonds. A glaring light surrounded Kenobi for a fraction of a second and died down so fast that Reaja doubted that anyone except for her had seen it. 

Once more he cramped in her lap and then his eyes flew wide open. 

Strange eyes. The colours changed so fast that Reaja could barely follow: blue, green and grey whirled around like in a tsunami. The healer saw enough to realise that he didn't recognise her. If only she could read what was going on inside of him! 

"Let go, Jedi Kenobi," she whispered again. 

A tidal wave of emotions surged through Obi-Wan and was clearly visible in his eyes. 

One last time his weakened body cramped - and as reality found its way into his mind, he screamed like a wounded animal. 

***

The process of waking up was more painful for Obi-Wan than Reaja ever would have imagined. For a long time he lay in a delirious dozy state, never actually awake, but never actually asleep. The bruises on his back had come back, raven-black and going deeper than they should have. The inner injuries were detected nearly too late. It took the joined strength of three healers to start the healing process. 

None of the other priestesses shared her worries about Kenobi's status. It had to be expected was the casual answer when she tried to voice her thoughts. He had insisted on going through with the ritual even though he hadn't been perfectly healthy before. The outcome of this wasn't surprising. 

More than once she heard it say that she wasn't bringing honour to her priesthood when she was letting her personal feelings for this patient guide her that much. 

Reaja stayed with Kenobi. She didn't leave his side, was with him when he hallucinated, eased cool cloths over his forehead when he suffered nightmares. 

The Jedi had talked in his nightmares; confused, incoherent words, which had, however, gathered whisperingly together in the darkness of the night to form one terribly threatening whole. 

***

"You are awake, Jedi Kenobi?" 

The high priestess pushed opened the door, from behind which she had heard the quiet voice of Reaja and came inside the narrow room with quick steps. Without waiting for a reaction from the Jedi, she leant across him and removed a part of the protective bandages that had been wrapped around his back. 

"The healing process is making good progress, I see." 

Kenobi didn't answer, he barely reacted to the less than careful feeling hands of the priestess. Aethra rose briskly and turned towards Reaja, without a second glance at the young man. "I need to talk to you. Follow me." 

Reaja bowed her head slightly. "As you wish." 

The thought of leaving Kenobi on his own after seeing him just wake up didn't appeal to Reaja, but she knew that she had had too many missteps for this moon to afford angering Aethra. She flashed Obi-Wan a reassuring smile and left the room behind the tall priestess. 

The door was barely closed when Aethra turned around to face Reaja with a speed that could not be expected from her dignified way of carrying herself and her tall figure. 

Or Reaja was hard pressed to keep herself from laughing. She knew Aethra's methods for intimidating her subordinates, had lived with them long enough and looked through every single one of them. Then why did the high priestess still manage to force such a fearful respect out of her with such a small movement? 

"You are spending a lot of time with this patient, Reaja," she stated. "I hope you still remember the vows of your initiation?" 

The warning hung between the dissimilar women like a fine mist. Aethra - tall, slim, dark-haired and with the austere beauty of the mountain region women, radiated no warmth whatsoever in this beauty, and Reaja - short, a little round, with a kind , slightly _imperfect_ face, that was lined from a life full of hard work and that still showed the traces of a not yet lost sense of humour that were still visible whenever she smiled. 

She didn't feel like smiling as she watched the high priestess coolly. Quite the opposite. She had fallen out with Aethra about this a lot of times before, and she knew the way those conversations went from the beginning. 

"Yes, Aethra, I remember. But do _you_ remember that we vowed to never give up before everything is done? To never judge?" 

The grey eyes of the high priestess pierced into the ones that opposed hers. For a moment Reaja believed to see flickering anger in those eyes - then Aethra's face relaxed and she gave the smaller priestess a thin-lipped, dishonest smile. 

"The queen asked for your patient." 

The tone of her voice said clearly that the high priestess didn't enjoy bringing her this piece of news. But why did she come for this herself? She could have sent a novice. Reaja didn't understand what was going on behind the high priestess's unreadable eyes. Was it just the confrontation? Reaja knew that Aethra had no real negative feelings about her. They weren't what they called best friends but they were also far away from being enemies. Antipathies like those were unbecoming of a priestess of the healer temples and so they had decided on a truce in the regularly occurring confrontations. And sometimes Reaja even looked forward to those confrontations, since they meant that Aethra valued her opinion and and did not just overlook her. 

The reason for today's visit was still hidden from her. Surely Aethra hadn't come all the way up here just to see whether the Jedi was all right or not. Soon after his first waking she had declared with icy determination that she would not take care of his recovery. But what else brought her here into this distant part of the temple? It couldn't just be the queen's message. 

Reaja realised that she stared at Aethra for some blinks of an eye, without having answered her last words. 

"How is the queen?" 

A quiet smile lit up the high priestess's usually strict features. 

"We hope that her royal highness can return to the palace soon," she replied. 

As fast as it had come, the smile disappeared. Reaja felt the tall woman's inquisitive look on her. 

"What are you _not_ telling me, Aethra?" 

Without losing a fraction of the elegance and authority that surrounded her, Aethra breathed the air out of her lungs and walked a few steps towards an open archway, from where she could overlook one of the steep slopes that surrounded Theed and from where a roaring waterfall poured forth more than hundred meters into the depth. Up here in the height of the healer temple the sound was only audible as a slight murmur. 

"I've been to the consecrated vaults." 

Reaja held her breath. No one had set foot into the consecrated vaults since time immemorial and even now, after such an old ritual had taken place, it shocked Reaja that Aethra had gone to the consecrated halls twice in such a short time. A lot of priestesses never got the permission to set foot into those vaults, and stepping into them without having been invited . . . it was a sacrilege 

Reaja knew that the high priestess had worked hard to get certain privileges, and she knew what was kept in the consecrated vaults, but she had thought . . . 

"Why?" 

Aethra's steadily kept mask crumpled a little as she looked back at Reaja. 

"This is not important now. Important is what I have to tell you now." She breathed deeply and tried to keep the upcoming emotions from taking over her voice. "I have read the old records again . . ." 

Again she stopped. Reaja gazed at the high priestess's usually calm face in utter confusion. It wasn't like Aethra to speak so vaguely. Had something been overlooked? Aethra saw the seed of understanding waking up in the shining brown eyes of the smaller priestess. 

"A mistake?" Reaja whispered, barely able to keep the terror out of it. 

"That depends," Aethra answered with a strong voice. 

"What happened? What did you read in the records?" 

The high priestess took her eyes off the waterfalls far below them and gazed in Reaja's eyes. "The ritual isn't finished. Especially not for you, carrier of the runes."

***

Obi-Wan had the feeling of walking through a thick fog he couldn't find a way out of. Voices came through to him, but only muffled, the pain of which he knew he should feel it, had died down to a dull pounding and even his thoughts were so slow that he could have held on to every single one of them and vivisected them. He didn't know whether the healer's had given him a sedative or not.

The same scenes played on in his head over and over again, without him being able to stop them.

Failure. A fall. A scream.

He heard how Reaja softly talked to him, how she carefully fed him, he felt that other priestesses looked at him, how he was being medically treated , but nothing seemed to have any meaning and took place far, far away.

Just like now. 

He did feel his legs moving just as he felt Reaja's calm, warm presence that pillowed him softly, but everything seemed strangely distant, just as if his body would act without his mind. 

The room looked vaguely familiar to him. He had been here before . . . Right. When the ritual had started. Small and fragile the queen had laid on the blue cloth on the warm floor. So weak.

The same scenes again.

They had trusted him with her life.

__

'You are the only one who can help, Jedi.'

He hadn't been fast enough. The queen had died because he hadn't been fast enough. Qui-Gon had died, because he hadn't been fast enough. And why? Why was he the only one who was alive still? He, who of all the people deserved it the least bit to still be alive. He, who had those lives on his consciousness? Why him?

***

Reaja was noticeably pale when she entered the room where the ritual had started, carefully supporting Obi-Wan with her arm. Acolytes scurried hurriedly around in the hallways and softly talked to each other, trying to hide their curiosity about the Jedi's visit. He walked indifferently next to Reaja, and he didn't seem to notice anything about his surroundings. His bodily wounds had healed and his health was nearly completely up to par once again. Now and then he even had had little meaningless conversations with her, that made her believe in his ongoing healing. What had stayed behind, were unsure movements. 

She carefully directed him into the middle of the vault and closed the high door behind her. The last thing she needed now was a group of acolyte's that followed her every movement with curiosity and tried to interpret it. She needed time to prepare the Jedi and herself for what Aethra had said. The ritual wasn't over yet. What was that supposed to mean? Couldn't the high priestess have spoken any more cryptically?

"Sit down, Jedi Kenobi." 

His movements had gotten more fluid again, but they had lost a lot of the litheness that was usual for a young man his age. Nevertheless it seemed that at least this posture was comfortable for him. He looked relaxed. 

Bodily relaxed.

She vaguely remembered having called him with his first name before and the wish to not care about formalities and do it again arose inside of her, to achieve a more personal bond that might help him to overcome his self-doubts.

"You know why you're here?" 

She had sat down opposing the Jedi on the warm marble floor and gazed questioningly into his troubled eyes. There still raged the same storm she had seen when he had first opened his eyes after the ritual. A nasty feeling crept up her spine like an icy hand. 

Was she overlooking something? He was alright again. 

Or wasn't he? 

His gaze returned from the far away regions of his mind and focused on her face. It could be read plainly that he didn't know why he was here. Why he was here at all. Reaja clearly read the emotions in the green-blue eyes, but couldn't place them. She suppressed the slight flicker of insecurity before it had the chance to grow into a full fledged premonition. This wasn't the time for prophecies of doom.

Obi-Wan bowed his head and looked at the marble-floor that was divided into even octogonals with interest. With a little too much interest for Reaja's taste

"The ritual isn't over yet, young master." 

That sentence brought the attention she had wanted. Kenobi's head shot up and his eyes fastened on Reaja with vague unease. Hundreds of emotions flickered through his face and his eyes at the same time before he brought them under control.

***

TBC


	9. IX

Circle of healing_9_black-white **__**

IX. 

__

You're not running away. 

__

You're not running. 

__

Are you? 

__

(Lisa Loeb) 

***

"Healer?" 

It should have sounded strong, interested. Instead the words had sunk down to a horrified whisper. 

How could the ritual possibly not be finished? Obi-Wan's thoughts raced with a speed he had believed to be lost, and the fog in his mind slowly lifted. 

Not finished? What could follow now? A new cremation? A new funeral. New pain, new embarrassment. An indictment? Would they hold him reliable for not saving the queen? 

Of course. Reaja's tongue had slipped. What followed now wasn't a ritual, it was an inquisition by Captain Panaka's security and a trial at a Naboo court. Instinctively he asked himself what the punishment was on Naboo for killing the head that wore the crown. Could there be a worse crime? 

He saw that Reaja's lips moved while she talked, but his swirling thoughts occupied too much of his attention for him to be able to understand what she was saying. 

__

'What a great Jedi you are, Obi-Wan Kenobi,' his inner voice taunted sarcastically. 'First Qui-Gon, now the queen. And now you're not even strong enough to face the indictments. Good Jedi.' 

He clenched his fists and pressed them against his temples. No, no. That was all wrong. He would face the indictments. He would accept his punishment. He wouldn't betray the code by hiding from his responsibility. 

"Obi-Wan?" 

His name was spoken hesitantly, as if it were hard to voice the syllables. For a moment his thoughts were stopped by the soft question. 

Reaja had stopped speaking and looked at him worriedly. She knew that he probably hadn't heard a single words she had said. She just didn't know why. 

His expression was calm and smooth, his posture only a little tense - but that could be due to the wounds not yet completely healed. So what had made her look in his eyes again? And why did she see such a complete giving up? Why such hopelessness? 

It wasn't her place to ask this question, the healers of the soul were trained much better at this than she - a healer of the body - was. Furthermore it would be another minus on her already long list of missteps. 

But this couldn't be delayed. 

"What's weighing you down, Jedi Kenobi?" Automatically she returned to the formal name. 

The absurdity of this question in his situation wasn't lost on Obi-Wan. Reaja probably didn't even know that this question beat everything. 

Weighing him down? He laughed bitterly. Much more squishing him. He tried the word on the tip of his tongue and decided that he liked the way it sounded in his head. 

Yeah. Squishing. 

The load had piled up so high that only a small stone was missing to make his thin protective walls crumble under the weight of his guilt and squish him like a sand flea. 

Or rather . . . but no. 

He wouldn't give into temptation. It would have been easy to reach out for the dark side to lessen all those feelings of guilt, to find reassuring explanations and excuses for himself. It would have been easy to give into the anger, to stand against all this with rage and hate, rage against the priestesses who had wanted him for this ritual, rage against the council for making him do it, rage against the kindness of the priestess who sat opposite him him, asking him to share another part of himself. What would be left if he gave more of himself again? 

Before those thoughts could reach the rational part of his mind, he stopped them. 

What kind of thoughts was he playing with here? Had he really become _that_ weak? 

Reaja still waited for an answer. But what kind of an answer did she expect? 

He was silent for a few more moments. He didn't know what he was supposed to answer. No one except for Qui-Gon had ever asked him about his feelings. And even with Qui-Gon it had been seldom. How was he supposed to articulate them? 

Space. The very first thing he needed was space to think. And that was impossible under the imploring look of the healer. 

With a movement that was mostly fluid, yet still a bit jerky he rose and walked a few steps into the hall. His steps echoed dully in the high vault. 

Again he wondered why Reaja wanted to talk to him about his feelings. She shouldn't care for the feelings of a man who had killed the queen. Naboo hadn't regained its usual routine in daily life, and the queen's sudden demise could bring another crisis over the planet. A new weight sank to his shoulders. The crucial weight. A cycle of indictments and self-loathing got going, one he would most probably never find a way out of. 

__

'Too slow.' 

If only he had been a little faster . . . 

***

Reaja rose as well and walked quietly towards one of the high windows from where the light of the early morning caressed her features with a soft hue. Here she heard the Jedi's quietly murmured words. 

"Too slow." 

Confused, Reaja tried to make some sense out of those words. 

"Who was too slow, young master?" 

She couldn't really tell whether Kenobi actually hadn't heard or if he was ignoring her as he started pacing the hall like a trapped animal. Lengthy, powerful steps carried him swiftly through the room. 

Back and forth. Back and forth. 

Reaja shivered at the thoughts that raced through her mind. Was that it? Were these the consequences the old recordings had warned them about? Uneasily she stepped forward and blocked his way. 

"What was too slow, Jedi Kenobi?" 

She had to bring an end to this. He mustn't manoeuvre himself into such a state without her doing something about it. She was a healer after all. 

For a moment it seemed that he would collide with her, as if he didn't even recognise her standing there. Then he stopped, barely half a meter away from her. His features were serious. It wasn't the dreaded madness that shimmered in his eyes. Rather it was guilt that weighed much more and was much harder to accept than any madness would ever have been. 

She nearly wished he wouldn't answer. Nevertheless she asked again: "Who or what was too slow, Jedi Kenobi?" 

Again he didn't react to her question directly. He looked through her and repeated the softly murmured words she hadn't understood earlier. 

"I could have saved the queen. If I had been just a little faster. . ." 

A sigh of relief escaped Reaja's control and she smiled broadly. If _that_ was it . . . That was something she could work with, she could take this guilt away from him. Carefully she laid both of her hands on his upper arms. 

"The queen is fine, young master. Didn't anybody tell you?" 

The priestess's words only slowly processed in his mind. The queen was fine. He searched his heart and knew that it wasn't true. The healer priestess tried to calm him, tried to take the guilt away from him. 

But she hadn't been there. She hadn't seen how the aurora had enveloped and burned the queen. 

__

'It is alright, healer. I don't need protection. What I need is reassurance.' 

With an indignant gesture he eased himself out of the priestess's soft touch. "That is not possible. I was too slow." 

Reaja laughed - a rather helpless sound that echoed far too loudly. "Trust me, Obi-Wan. The queen really is fine." 

"Too slow." Kenobi had retreated in his mantra, not listening to her words. What she said was irrelevant. He knew better. The only thing her words triggered was the feeling of being made fun of. A feeling he had never been known to take very well. 

The healer priestess tried to reach him again and put her hand on his arm once more. "You need to listen to me, Jedi Kenobi. The first part of the ritual was successful!" 

He stared at her, suddenly brought out of his lethargy by her words. 

"Successful?" 

Reaja retreated a few steps when she saw the cold look in the young Jedi's eyes. 

"You are saying that it was successful, healer? _Sucessful_?" His voice could only be fractions away from being heard in the very last corner of the temple. 

The healer's eyes flickered in unspoken worry. What she saw on the Jedi's face scared her. She felt the overwhelming urge to calm him and to prove him that he was mistaken. But was he ready for this truth? Reaja knew that it would have been better to end this conversation now. But she had gone too far already. Too far to stop now. She owed it to the Jedi to make this situation alright again, to bring a good ending to this. 

A tiny voice in the back of her head asked if she was really doing this for the Jedi. Angrily she shut the voice up. 

"Yes, young master. You have been successful. The queen has come back." 

Obi-Wan could feel the anger pulsing under his scalp. How dare she make fun of him after all he had been through? How dare she treat him like a fool, like a child who could not understand? He knew what had happened. He knew what he had done. Or much rather what he hadn't done. He had to live with it. And no one had the right to taunt him. No one. 

His hands balled to fists, he realised clearly how the force started to ripple around him. Tiny waves spread out fast and faster, wave upon wave hit the next, became bigger, stronger. His body became wide awake and strong under this new experience, which washed away his rational thoughts and left behind nothing but anger. 

He hated being made fun of. Had always hated it. Very early, still at the temple this had been one of the strongest feelings he had had to fight. 

He was standing at one of those points again. 

Obi-Wan's breath came fast as he tried to control the anger. Eyes squeezed shut in deep concentration, he didn't see the high priestess leaving the hall for a short while. He fought the seductive ease of an outburst of rage. 

Oh yes, it would be easy. Let himself go, and for a short while just let all those piled up emotions run freely, finding a venting mechanism for the burning anger he felt 

The pictures mixed up. It was Reaja's helplessly-trying-to-help face, it was the cool features of the other priestesses, it was the queen's face, the dark warrior's taunting visage, and Qui-Gon's familiar face as well. Left behind, betrayed, pushed away and robbed of the most important thing in his life, Obi-Wan was having more and more difficulties in trying to keep his temper. 

Reaja found the worst possible moment to disturb his concentration. 

"Do you believe me now, young master?" 

__

'Leave me alone,' Obi-Wan pleaded silently. 

He couldn't deal with the priestess now. Not without completely losing control. 

He needed to center himself, needed to push back the dark temptations, needed to cleanse himself and analyse his misstep patiently. He couldn't deal with the well-meaning priestess now. _Not now!_

"Jedi!" Reaja was definitely giving orders now, albeit in a very motherly tone. 

"Leave at once, healer," Obi-Wan ground out out from between clenched teeth. 

"No, young master. You will turn around now and see for yourself that you are wrong. You cannot punish yourself for something you haven't done." 

"Healer, I am going to say this one last time." His voice was sharp and cold as ice. "Go. Now." 

"You are forgetting yourself, Jedi Kenobi." The voice of the high priestess Aethra echoed through the high vaults like the crack of a whip. "I don't always agree with Reaja's methods but in this case I am standing behind her decision. You will comply, Jedi." 

Despite of the authority in her voice Aethra didn't expect him to react right away. The more it surprised her when Kenobi whirled around and dared her eyes to take up the silent battle. 

His movement had gained more certainty during the last few minutes. Soundlessly, eerily secure and fluid he stepped out of the recess where he had been standing by the window. 

The legendary reputation of the Jedi seemed to be personified in this young man and gained an entirely new meaning. 

"Now what, healer?" 

His tone lay somewhere between a taunt and a harsh insult. 

This was not at all the polite and softly overprotective Jedi she had come to know. Reaja heard Aethra gasping for breath at his words and she knew she had to come up with something, _anything_ to lighten the tension. With small quick steps she walked towards the Jedi. In her hands one of the glowing spheres the Gungan ruler had given the queen at the day of the big parade was shining softly. 

Kenobi watched her coming closer with growing agitation. Aethra had already put him in a defensive position. If Reaja got _any_ closer now, his last protective wall would be taken away from him. He didn't know what was going to happen if she came too close. He didn't know how much longer he could control it. The priestess's ignorance triggered new anger. Didn't they understand that he had to be alone? 

Just a few steps separated the healer priestess from the young man who now looked much less like the incarnation of a powerful Jedi and much more like a cornered predator. His breathing became faster and his eyes never left Reaja. 

The priestess swallowed against the upcoming dryness in her throat and cleared it hastily. The sphere pulsed in a blue light as she pushed it towards him and laid it into his hands. "A gift from her majesty the queen. She is looking forward to seeing you again, Jedi Kenobi." 

Obi-Wan's eyes were glued to the object he held in his hands. 

__

'Seeing you again.' 

The blue pulsing consumed all of his mind, brought back all the pictures he had fought so hard against during the last days. The force flared up wildly around him and he screamed inwardly. The sphere's light pulsed brighter, friendlier, in a more radiant blue. In a burning blue. He could feel the force flooding every single cell of his body, making him strong, stronger than he had ever been before. 

The light still pulsed. 

Eternally. 

Burning blue. 

His mind was left behind in a hot wave of rage and agony that rolled over him faster than he could grasp with his thoughts. No sound emerged from his lips. He simply stared into the sphere in his hands, fear and rage in perfect unison. 

The sphere's pulsing became faster, faster until there were no more interruptions between in intervals. Obi-Wan wanted nothing more but to let go of this cursed object, but found it to be an impossible task. His hands had seemingly merged with the silky surface. 

"I trust you like my present, Jedi Kenobi? 

Even though the new voice that entered his thoughts was soft and melodious, in his frenzy, Obi-Wan felt as though he was hearing the discordant shriek of a breaking harp-string. He raised his eyes which saw nothing but the sphere's blue gleaming and tried in vain to find the person to whom this voice belonged. 

__

'My present.' 

The incredibly fast pulsing had taken over the force in his body. The control slipped away from him faster and faster from one second to the next. Where his fingertips touched the sphere the gleaming became even more intensive, so intensive that he had to close his eyes. But even there the intense blue haunted him. 

The anger welled up again. Rage, desperation, fear. 

Something broke inside of him. 

One last time the sphere in his hands flashed like lightning - then it shattered into a thousand little pieces that dug into his fingers and drew blood immediately. 

The rushing of the blood in his ears was omnipotent and made him deaf to all the other sounds in the room. Deaf to the high priestess's horrified groan, to the fine clink of the falling splinters, to the quick steps of the young woman who came close to him and then stood rooted to the spot gazing into his eyes which were slowly opening again like those of a wild animal caught in the headlight of a speeder. Deep down, hidden in the young man's eyes something was lurking, something that was better off never reaching the surface. She saw him fighting it down. 

Kenobi locked his gaze with that of the young woman in front of him. Only slowly realisation started to dawn. 

He still felt the remnants of the incredible power he had experienced. The feeling of touching an open power coupling, yet not being killed, but being _accepted_ by it. He had been one with this force. 

Realisation hit him harder than any blow with a sword could have. The dark side. He had touched the dark side, had taken it inside him, had fed it . . . 

Obi-Wan Kenobi started to shake all over his body and hid his face in his hands, not caring that the splinters cut his face as well. 

What in the name of the force had he done? 

***

Padme was glad this confrontation hadn't lasted a second longer than it did. She wasn't afraid of many people. But this glimpse at the Jedi's wild soul, into the unpredictability, rattled her thoroughly. 

Had she known how close this menacingly lurking something had come to the surface, how little had separated it from breaking free, her worries would have turned into icy fear.

***

TBC


	10. X

Circle of healing_10_black-white **__**

X.

North, South, East

where's best?

If I head left

It turns out directionless

(Mathews/Roberts) 

***

"You will spend this time together and _only_ together. No one except the highest priestesses will know of your whereabouts." 

Padme didn't even try to hide her surprise. "_How_ long?" 

Reaja bent her head slightly. "That is not for us to say." 

"What does that mean? Can't you speak clearly, healer?" 

Reaja was glad that the long years of dealing with people from the palace had trained her. The queen wasn't wearing her royal gowns, neither was she wearing the typical make-up, yet those words had sounded unmistakably sharp and demanding. The young novice who was waiting in the adjacent room had flinched fiercely.Reaja bit her lips to suppress a smile. 

Naara. 

The little one was much too curious for her own good. But it was this curiosity that made Reaja sense so much potential in her. 

"Healer? Are you listening to me?" 

This time she flinched under the sharp rebuke in the queen's voice. "Forgive me, your majesty." At her gesture the high, heavy door was closed and the room shielded from the eyes and ears of curious novices.She smiled apologetically and turned towards the two young people sitting in front of her. "Our novices have a lot to learn." 

A quick shadow of memory flickered over the Jedi's face as he smiled wistfully. _'That sounds familiar.'_

The queen cast a quick glance at the Jedi which demanded his support. Kenobi knew what he was expected to say. "Please, healer, tell us: How long will we have to stay at this place?" 

"And why?" 

The queen's question echoed in the high vaults for a while. Dull daylight that barely had the power to reflect on the shiny marble floor seeped through the huge windows of the cool room that was scented with fragrant herbs. 

Reaja prepared for a long dispute. The reason for this seclusion wasn't easy to explain, and she could do nothing but hope that the queen and the Jedi understood what she was doing and didn't fight her. Because if they did fight . . . 

Well, actually she didn't know what would happen if they fought her. The records of the few times this had happened were written down in the big tomes that were kept in the forbidden vaults of the temple. A part not even she - despite her merits in the temple - had a right to go to. 

"Linking two souls," she began with a quick glance at the queen and the Jedi, "that haven't been prepared for being linked is utterly dangerous. The risks of a collapse or a permanent damage to the souls are very high. Bonds like this can have side-effects that go far beyond our imagination. . ." 

She tried to make the whole thing sound as unimportant as possible. One look at the young Jedi and the barely suppressed feeling of guilt in his eyes told her that she failed miserably. 

"That is why this seclusion is vital for the lives and the souls of the ones linked. Their souls have been interwoven and this bond must not, under any circumstances, be cut abruptly. You will go into seclusion to separate your souls." 

The Jedi and the queen exchanged a wary look. Their souls had been woven together? 

As she left the hall for one of the distant walkways of the temple to think about what she had just heard, Padme turned her attention towards herself. In the beginning she felt nothing but the deep peace that surrounded her since she had woken up. But then she felt upcoming doubts, the feeling of inadequacy and a numbing feeling of guilt - all of them feelings that didn't belong to her. Was Reaja right? Since she had woken up, no one had told her what had happened, and the idea of having established a link to Kenobi's soul seemed absurd to her. Yet . . . 

***

"Please wait for a moment, young master." 

Reaja's warm voice held Obi-Wan back. The queen had already left and if Reaja wanted to talk to him alone now, it could mean only one thing. He bowed slightly before her. 

"I am truly sorry, healer. There is no excuse for my behaviour." 

The priestess smiled sadly and absentmindedly smoothed a crease in her gown. "You worry too much, young master," she answered mildly. "But don't you want to tell me what happened?" 

No. That was exactly what he did _not_ want. He wanted to suppress that it had happened, and as of right now he didn't care how wrong that was. By his actions he had betrayed everything he had ever learned and sworn. How could he go on living with that knowledge without. . . 

Reaja saw him averting his eyes and erecting a wall around himself she wouldn't be able to overcome. 

"How are your hands,"she asked, changing the subject. 

At first she didn't think he had heard her. Then he pulled his hands out of the wide sleeves of his robe and looked at them with an expressionless face. Acting on a learned reflex, the healer went up to him and seized the Jedi's slim yet strong hands to examine them. 

"The wounds are healing very well," she exclaimed satisfied. A quick glance at his face showed her that the cuts there were starting to heal as well. A good sign. 

Their images were reflected in the floor-length window and Reaja asked herself how she was supposed to tell him what she had to tell him. Aethra had made that her task. And Reaja desperately wished she hadn't. 

"Do you know why you're here, young master?" 

His tired eyes moved over her face and a sad smiled played around his lips. The question sounded familiar. 

"I have placed myself under a heavy burden of guilt, healer." 

Such a simple answer, yet what a drastic confession. The feeling of guilt exuding from every single one of his pores surrounded him like a dark cloud. 

"The high priestess . . ." She stopped and cleared her throat uneasily. She didn't want to be the one to bring him this piece of news - yet she had no choice. "The high priestess has spoken to the Jedi council about this incident. Together they decided that you will be cut off from the force for the rest of your stay here." 

Now that the words were spoken Reaja thought that she might as well have stabbed him with a knife. Obi-Wan swayed slightly and his face turned ashen. But this moment of weakness only lasted for a few seconds. 

He bowed before her. "I will not doubt the wisdom of the high priestess and the council." 

A part of him shattered into a thousand pieces because of this order. And she had known this would happen. 

***

"Mistress!" 

Sabé rushed into the temple's chambers with unceremonious speed. Her hair lay open around her shoulders and her orange robe surrounded her with a warm glow. But this glowing could very well be coming from the handmaiden's eyes as well. 

Padme couldn't recall the last time she had seen Sabé acting with such little control. The young woman who had dedicated her life to protecting the queen was usually quiet and controlled in every possible situation - moments when she allowed herself to behave according to her age were few and far between. Her age . . . 

Padme didn't remember ever asking her about her age. She had always assumed that her bodyguard was about her age. Why hadn't she ever thought of asking? One look at the handmaiden's open and beaming face showed her how little she knew about the young woman. And yet she was the closest thing she had to a friend in the palace. If a queen had friends at all. 

"Sabé." Padme smiled warmly and had to hold herself back from reacting too familiarly. She still was the queen and she was expected to keep a little distance to her servants. 

"You are alright again, your highness." Sabé's eyes sparkled like dark gems. "We were . . ." 

" Already willing to write me off?" The queen couldn't suppress the little teasing. 

Sabé stared at her shocked for a few moments. "No, mistress, you don't understand, we never . . ." 

"Sabé, come on." The corners of Padme's mouth twitched suspiciously. " You should learn to distinguish between a joke and a serious comment." 

When she saw that Sabé still hesitated, she nodded her head towards one of the slim benches that were situated in the narrow covered walk. 

"Have a seat, Sabé, you're completely out of breath." She looked over the handmaiden's appearance once again. "Why did you run so fast?" 

"I have been told you were awake again." Sabé's eyebrows furrowed, confused. "And that you had asked for me. Was that incorrect? Do you want me to leave?" She made a move to rise. 

"Sabé, not at all!", the queen repeated softly and laid her arm on the handmaidens arm. The touch caused Sabé to flinch first but soon she relaxed under the slim warm hand on the rich orange of her robe. 

"I asked you to come here because I need your help." Padme's eyes travelled over the small stripes of sunlight that filtered through the creepers on the walkway, lined by high sandstone columns, casting irregular patterns on the floor "But first things first - do tell me what happened in the palace while I was at the temple." 

Sabé's posture relaxed considerably as she started talking about familiar things. Her hand moved to the delicate silver bracelet that clung to her wrist and she played with it unconsciously. Padme inwardly smiled at how easy it was to overcome even the greatest insecurities simply by asking her about familiar things. Sabé wasn't an insecure girl anymore - and she never had been one, otherwise she would never ever have been chosen for this job, but Padme still felt a certain distance between her and the handmaiden. And maybe that was right - maybe Sabé had been taught to keep her distance towards the queen, but Padme often wished that the young woman would forget the conventions for a few moments and just talk to her. 

The handmaiden's attentive eyes had never left her during the conversation and Sabé took in every tiny detail, always prepared to react suddenly, if it became necessary. 

Padme felt an almost motherly pride rise inside of her as she listened to Sabé's reports. The handmaiden had taken Padme's place right after the Queen had collapsed, and not a single thing had escaped the close circle of the other handmaidens and the healers. 

Padme was proud of Sabé, as proud as she was only very rarely. Since the charade during the trade blockade she had realised how very important this handmaiden was for her, and how much she could trust her. Those last days only confirmed this. 

There were days when this hiding scared Padme - she surrendered herself to the handmaiden completely in a way. But she knew she could trust Sabé with her life. 

On the other hand she let the young woman carry a burden that wasn't meant for her to carry. That was already incredibly heavy for her from time to time. How would Sabé feel, who _only_ had the rank of a handmaiden after all? This job was ungrateful. Sabé would always be in the shadow of Amidala, the queen, even though and maybe just because she was the wind under her wings. 

Absentmindedly she reached for a slim glass that was filled with a ruby-red nectar and nodded for Sabé to help herself. 

If she tried to forget the difference between mistress and servant, she could imagine that this was a conversation between friends. But before she could finish that thought reality crashed in and she scolded herself for daydreaming. That wasn't worthy of a queen and most of all it was dangerous. One could get lost in dreams like that. 

"You have been my eyes and my ears since I've been at the temple," Padme began, as she turned the slim goblet with the delicate carved in patterns in her hands, watching how the daylight that shone from behind the high columns caused the colour of the drink to shift. For a moment Sabé revelled in that observation. Was that what kept the queen stable? Little things like this tiny gesture? Watching a colour shift. Little, tiny things that others didn't even realise? 

"What I ask of you is an awful lot, but I need to ask you to also be my voice." 

Sabé listened up and berated herself for not paying attention. Her voice? 

If she was going to takes the queen's place for a longer period of time, didn't that mean that Amidala wasn't well at all, despite what she said? The professional worry of a bodyguard was pushed aside by the completely personal worry for the young woman she had vowed her life to. 

Padme saw the changes flicker over Sabé's face. Did she have to explain herself? Did she have to give her a reason? The decision was made quickly. If she put such a heavy burden on the handmaiden's shoulders, she owed her an explanation. 

The queen shifted on the traditionally unadorned bench until she had found a more comfortable position and then went on. "The healers have told me that my full recovery will take some more time." 

Worry flared up wildly in the handmaiden's soft brown eyes. "Mistress?" 

With an impulsive gesture Padme grasped for her bodyguard's hand and squeezed it lightly. "I am fine, Sabé, trust me. But I will have to leave Theed for a while. The throne may not remain empty during that time. The trade-blockade and the internment of the population has left wounds among my people. I cannot allow a political escalation to come up because the queen isn't doing her duties." 

"Your highness, you have never neglected your duties. Whoever says something like that is . . ." 

"Sabé, don't," she interrupted the handmaiden calmly. "This isn't necessary." 

She rose and tried to make her steps look as strong and certain as possible in order not to lose face in front of Sabé. How sick all of this was. Sabé was the one who was closest to her in the palace, yet she could not show any weakness, even in front of her. 

Sabé saw the queen's inner struggle better than anyone else could have. She couldn't really tell what was going on behind those unreadable eyes of the ruler, but she saw that something was worrying her. 

"I will prove myself worthy, your highness." 

Padme turned away from the ivy-entwined columns and gave Sabé a warm smile. 

"I know, Sabé. I have never had any doubts." 

***

The novice Naara scurried through the narrow hallways of the temple, eagerly trying not to be noticed by anyone. One of the older priestesses had sent her to the garden to cut herbs for a rather common liquid the temple needed to prepare a simple medicine for small children. Naara had finished this task after a few minutes and had decided to make better use of the time she had left. 

The queen was at the temple! 

Naara's heart beat faster at the thought. Being one of the youngest novices, she wasn't allowed to meet the queen. When she found out about that regulation, she had been sourly disappointed. But in the meantime she had found ways to sneak away for a few minutes and to secretly watch the queen. 

The young girl admired the queen's unconsciously graceful movements, and watched with fascination how naturally she talked to the older priestesses. 

Her breathing was fast when she stopped behind a broad column. With one hand she pushed back her dishevelled her. Accordingly to the traditions for novices her hair only just covered her ears. 

Naara remembered the prickly cool feeling of the when her hair, which back then had reached her knees, had been cut in order to join the temple. Tears had burned in her eyes, since every Naboo woman considered her hair to be the most treasured adornment she could own. Meanwhile Naara had gotten used to the shortness and she enjoyed the significance behind every millimetre that her hair was growing. 

Naara was a fragile girl of 13 years. The curly hair fell softly around cheekbones which hadn't yet lost all of their childish roundness. Delicate, barely visible eyebrows were curved in a fine line over bright blue eyes. 

Naara had experienced a lot of snide comments about those eyes in her childhood, but she had shoved them away with her natural quick-wittedness. Big and curious they looked out of the delicate face and she was never quite able to hide the glitter of mischief. Their colour was so very different from the usual brown of all of the other Naboo children. 

It had taken Naara a long time to accept that she wasn't quite like all the others. Her milky-white skin was too fair for a warm planet like Naboo and over the small shapely nose ran a ribbon of uncountable freckles, which was similar to the ribbon of stars in the night sky and therefore only deepened the cheerful and open expression of her face. Her mouth which seemed to smile constantly was a little too pale. She wasn't what they would call a beauty but because of her naturalness and her clearly visible zest for life she held a clumsy-unconscious attraction for the people around her. 

Her big eyes opened even wider than usual Naara stared at the queen who was sitting in the garden of silence, clad in a deep red tunic, watching the Jedi who was meditating just a few steps away from her. 

Neither of them moved. The Jedi's eyes were closed and his face sunken into deep concentration. The queen had propped her elbows on her knees and let her eyes wander over the face that wasn't hidden under the hood of a heavy cloak this time. 

A strange tension hung over the garden. The recently cut hedges moved quietly in the cool wind that brought the heavy smell of the close change in the weather. More rain would come. 

"Naara!" 

She flinched violently when she heard the voice of the priestess that had sent her out to cut the herbs in the walkway behind her. Scaldingly hot she realised how much time had passed. If she didn't find a plausible excuse she would be in quite a lot of trouble. 

She was safe for now. She hadn't been spotted yet. 

Yet. 

Naara cast a last sad glance into the garden and then hurried to return in the usual way from the herb garden where she was supposed to be working. 

***

The temple was soon behind them. The small boat moved quickly and nimbly on the smoothly flowing, small arm of the river. Sounds of the night surrounded them in a soft and reassuring way, making it easy to forget the unusual reason behind this excursion. Only the steady rain and the damp cold it brought with it were reminders of the fact that this was more than a leisure trip. 

The boat was inconspicuous and dipped into the velvet shadows of the night without being seen, without attracting any attention at all. 

The streets of the capitol Theed were quiet, only now and then a group of night owls became visible, coming home from one of the homely bars. Laughter wafted over to the little boat. 

Padme watched them, smiling. The light-heartedness in this laughter made part of her hum with recognition she hadn't heard in a long while. When was the last time she had smiled? She could barely remember. 

Only slowly did the memories return. 

Tatooine. She had been laughing on Tatooine. Loud and careless - over the clumsiness of JarJar Binks, who seemed to attract mishaps like a magnet. That had been before all of the events of the past weeks. So long ago . . . 

A quick glance at Reaja showed her that the priestess was smiling as well. Only the Jedi's face stayed stoic. Instantly the smile on Padme's face died away. 

His mood influenced her much more than she would ever admit. It wasn't like her to be influenced this much by anybody. That had been the reason she had been elected queen. But now one glance at the sunken face of the Jedi was enough to make all of her enthusiasm disappear. Even the inner peace she had securely felt all the time since she had woken up in the temple had developed jagged edges after the incident with the sphere. 

The rain hit the surface of the boat with a nice steady sound and mingled with the sound of the bow parting the waters before them. The sounds were so steady that she barely realised they were leaving the city boundaries. 

The lights stayed behind and soon they were completely surrounded by the jungle's mysterious silence which was broken only from time to time by the cries of night-active animals. 

Peaceful. 

The night spread its cloak around them and while Reaja steered the boat through the narrowing arms of the river, Padme felt Kenobi laying the heavy, waterproof robe around her shoulders and pulling the hood over her long hair in a clumsy, yet gentle caring movement. He stayed behind her and she could hear him breathing. Calm and steady. 

He enjoyed the silence and the calm of the forests and a deep serenity emanated from him and touched her as well. 

Strange. 

They hadn't talked to each other since they had left the temple, yet Padme didn't think of that fact as unpleasant. A small part of her asked if it really was so bad to be connected to the Jedi. 

What would happen once he had gotten over the excruciating pain of his loss? What would happen to their link if it wasn't severed? Why was it so dangerous to link two minds? 

She felt strangely safe with the knowledge of him sharing a small part of her - and of her sharing a small part of him. But it also frightened her enormously. Those conflicting emotions made it difficult to rationalise the whole thing. Maybe she would find the time to do just that when they reached the place Reaja was taking them to. 

She vaguely remembered having heard about the temple. But it had always been stories, fairy-tales told to children in dark stormy nights. She hadn't believed in its existence. And for some unknown reasons Padme still doubted it. 

She squinted in surprise when Reaja activated a light that cut in a sharp triangle through the darkness. Huge majestic trees became visible and thousands of eyes seemed to watch the strangers out from the darkness of the jungle. 

Padme shivered under the wind that had gained power and pushed rain in her eyes. Behind her she felt the warm and calm presence of the Jedi, and some of the tension left her body. It had been a long day and she felt the leaden fatigue creeping up which she had tried to suppress since they had left the temple. 

Softly the boat glided over the river's quietly swishing water. 

The wind moved through the trees and triggered a full harmonic rustling that wove itself harmonically into the sound of the rain.. 

Her thoughts returned to the Jedi once more. Outwardly he presented a stronger picture than at the beginning of the ritual. He held himself up more straight and showed fewer signs of his deep sorrow. 

But Padme had looked into his eyes - those troubled blue-green eyes, underlined by deep, dark shadows - she had seen the unrest, the insurmountable doubts, the swirling pain. Her worries for him had only increased from this moment on. Was nobody else looking at him? Did nobody but her recognise this? Or was this part of their connection? 

Padme shifted around on the uncomfortable small bench of the boat - not quite sure whether she should stay seated or get up. 

Reaja almost blended into the darkness and only the small circle in front of her was lit up by the bright white light. Padme's thoughts swirled restlessly and wouldn't allow her body the sleep she yearned for so much. 

Shivering, she pulled the robe closer around her body. Fatigue did its part to make her realise the cold more than necessary. 

A quiet, hesitating touch behind her made clear that her unrest had been noticed by Kenobi. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to . . ." 

"You didn't, your Majesty," he interrupted her softly but with determination. 

For a few blinks of an eye Padme listened to the way his words echoed in her. 

Hearing his voice felt good. Even though the silence between them was far from being awkward, she had often yearned to hear the softly accentuated voice during the last days. Now it had a reassuring influence on her racing thoughts. 

The low branch of one of the trees lining the shore jutting far into the middle of the river forced Reaja to take an evasive course to avoid being hit by the rain-wetted leaves and the strong side-branches. The boat swayed menacingly at the unexpectedly fast movement and Padme instinctively grasped for something she could hold on to. But before she could end the movement, Kenobi had slung his arms around her waist and had shifted his weight to the opposite side 

His fast intervention kept them all from capsizing. 

Padme's heart hammered wildly as she tried in vain to move out of his steadying arms. But she soon found out that this was impossible. He held her close and safe, obviously expecting another incident like that. And even though the queen in her raged against his taking charge, the part of her that didn't want to be royal won. 

Her posture relaxed and she let herself drift against his chest that was rising and falling with steady breaths. 

Lulled by the soft monotony of his breathing, she fell asleep only minutes later.

***

TBC


	11. XI

Circle of healing_11_black-white **__**

XI. 

__

Hush, the lilies and purple flowers 

__

Are sleeping 

__

I don't want them to know of my sorrow 

__

For if they see me crying 

__

They will die 

__

(Rafael Hernández) 

***

The jungle was breathing. 

Moist, warm air surrounded the small group. It was heavy with hundreds of different smells, ranging from the fresh, lively nuance up to a morbid heaviness that brought the eternal circle of life and death back to the memory. The high humidity caused the simple clothes soon to cling to their bodies and small beads of sweat ran over the wanderers' foreheads. From time to time the walk had to be delayed due to a fallen tree that blocked the way or to a small stream that unexpectedly emerged from the ground of the jungle. No words were spoken--it seemed as though the three wanderers had nothing much to say to each other. 

The sun had risen well over the zenith when they reached their destination. 

From the jungle's tight coppice a building rose majestically. A clearing, where reflections of the sunlight streaming through the dome of leaves were dancing, spread out in front of the steps leading inside the building. Even though it was very impressive, the building itself was made out of a bright sandstone that - due to the influences of the weather - had become black at some places and gave the impression of high age. The roof ran in graceful curves over the walls which, in comparison, looked frail and delicate." It spanned a broad terrace on which slim steatite benches were placed around a depression in the floor. Upon coming closer it was clear that this depression must have been some kind of a fountain once. The stone was shiny and bore the traces of water on the brims of the basin which imitated the perfect beauty of a lotus-blossom. 

Reaja climbed the last steps that lead to the terrace with an elating feeling of _home_. The temple in Theed was more useful, indeed, and more frequented, maybe it even was more comfortable, but this was the place where her soul found solitude. 

She kneeled in front of the lotus-basin and touched the stone, felt the perfection of the smoothly formed petals. The beauty that lay in this temple's simplicity never failed to have its effects on the healer priestess Reaja. So many things connected her to this place. 

She left the memories behind nearly reluctantly. Her hands put together in front of her face in a ritual gesture, she started to sing a series of pentatonic tones. 

While she was singing, she heard her exhausted companions climb up the few steps behind her and sink down on one of the benches. The sound of her voice flew through the open rooms in the temple and fled out into the jungle without causing a reflection. After she had ended, she rose slowly and fixed her eyes on the ground of the lotus-basin. 

The sound was so soft that at first it nearly drowned in the background noise of the jungle, in the cacophony of the different birds and the everlasting rustling and waving of the forest. Eventually the soft splashing and gurgling became more distinctly audible and from the corner of her eyes Reaja amusedly saw how the queen and the Jedi futilely searched for the source of the sound. 

"What is happening here, healer?" Padme's voice was faint and exhausted, but no less expectant. 

The priestess extended her hand. "Come and see for yourself, your majesty." 

Without paying attention to the healer's subordinate position in Naboo society, Padme reached for the offered hand and allowed the priestess to pull her to her feet until she was standing directly next to Reaja. 

For a while nothing happened and in her breathless exhilaration Padme forgot Kenobi, who sat behind her and watched the events from there, for a while. When the change finally came, she couldn't suppress a surprised cry. 

"Look! Healer, Jedi, look!" 

Reaja smiled. She had just witnessed one of the rare moments in which the queen - far away from her duties - could show a normal human reaction that wasn't regulated by the protocol of the palace. 

In front of the women's feet the lotus-basin had become alive. The stone shifted its shape and seemed to grow, from the centre of the stone blossom a bud rose. All around this bud clear, slightly bluish water bubbled up and soon filled the basin completely. It looked as if the lotus bud was swimming. 

Padme stared at the spectacle in front of her eyes adoringly. Her grasp at Reaja's hand increased slightly. 

__

'Oh, mistress, Reaja thought sadly. _'Why did they surrender you into the hands of this loneliness?'_

She squeezed the young woman's hand reassuringly one last time before she let go and smiled at her softly. 

"How . . . how did you . . ." 

The priestess shook her head. "Not all secrets are meant to be discovered, your majesty." 

She walked around the blossom towards the rooms of the temple 

"Your majesty, Jedi . . . Please let us continue the ritual." 

***

Even though they were inside the temple, the sounds of the jungle were only barely dampened. It was surprisingly cool in here and the fine smell of burning ceremonial herbs filled the air. 

Padme and Obi-Wan knelt on the temple's smooth stone ground. Facing each other they both searched for calm in the eyes of the other, but found nothing but swirling uncertainty. Neither of them knew what was going to happen. 

Reaja stood above them and Obi-Wan instinctively asked himself if it was just his kneeling position that made the healer appear superhuman in size, or if the burning herbs in the small copper bowl he had seen at the entrance of the room had some kind of hallucinogenic effects. He saw similar thoughts flickering in the queen's eyes. 

What was he getting into here? Hadn't he lived through enough humiliation? Hadn't the first ritual been enough? 

When the healer's warm hand was placed over his eyes he flinched violently. What had happened to his concentration? Unable to reach out with the force to see what the healer was doing, he was forced to wait and surrender himself to her actions, just as the queen did. 

His knees shook under the tense posture and the uncertainty. He needed way too much time to control that shaking. Meanwhile the healer priestess Reaja had ordered them to keep their eyes closed. 

Instantly his ears started to respond better. The fact that one sense could be replaced so fast and so far-reaching by another sense still flabbergasted him. The fine clink of a clay bowl became audible, then the soft sound of a liquid that was being poured into the bowl. The smell of the herb became more distinct and by now Obi-Wan was relatively sure that they had to have some inebriating effects. He felt weak, dizzy, and unsure, and judging from the irregular sound of the queen's breathing she felt exactly the same. 

"There is no need to worry", Reaja reassured her two charges. 

***

Later on Padme couldn't recall Reaja's exact words as she had told her to drink. 

A bowl was placed at her mouth, the rough surface of the clay teased the tender skin of her bottom lip blindly, as though searching and she reached for it with a steadying hand. 

But the hands that held the bowl weren't Reaja's. 

The fingertips of those hands were strangely familiar to her - rough and callused, but cool against her warm skin. For a few seconds her fingertips settled against the others and she enjoyed the sensation of intimacy until she felt a fine tremor running through the other hands and she forced herself to drink the sweetly smelling liquid. 

The potion burned down her throat all the way down to her stomach. Padme hadn't eaten anything since they had left the temple in Theed, and now whatever had been in this potion showed a direct effect. Dizziness flooded her so badly that she reached out to the floor for support. Her hands moved too slowly and no matter how much she tried to open her eyes - she couldn't manage. 

Warmth coming from her stomach flooded her body and washed away all the defence mechanisms her mind had against assaults like that. She felt like she was floating, yet she felt heavy as lead, unable to move a single muscle. 

The soft sound of cloth moving over stone reached her ear. Padme didn't feel the floor under her anymore, its cool was drowned by the enrapturing warmth inside of her. 

Darkness folded its wings around her as her last conscious thought slipped from her. 

***

With quick, skilled hands Reaja finished the last preparations before she left the quiet and seclusion of the temple. Supplies had been placed in one of the smaller buildings and she had left some important notes on a datapad. 

Her two charges slept deep and peaceful, neither of both heard the quick, busy steps of the priestess. 

Reaja had spent more time on this than necessary, and she knew it. Yet she couldn't part from the queen and the Jedi so fast. When her steps brought her to their sleeping places again, she stopped. Even during his sleep the Jedi had turned towards the queen, just as if he was ready to jump up from sleep and protect her if necessary. Reaja felt and saw the bond between the two of them flowing tenderly and steadily. Their dreams were peaceful. Part of her felt sorrow for having to destroy this bond. She hadn't seen a bond so powerful like the one between the queen and the Jedi in a long time. Yet none so dangerous as well, the other part of her mind reminded her. Carefully not to wake either of them, she placed her hands on the queen's and the Jedi's forehead and murmured a quiet blessing. 

Out of a feeling of sympathy she stepped out into the half overgrown garden of the temple and gently plucked the cream-coloured, delicate blossoms of a tree that was branching out in all directions. With skilled hands she wound a slim garland from the just opened buds of the blossoms. Their scent was unique - sweet and fresh and in a strange way pure and clear. Carefully she wound the blossom-garland around the queen's wrist, whose both hands lay next to her face in a nearly child-like manner. The scent would make her sleep become deeper and would give her the much needed rest. 

Unsteady breathing behind her brought her attention back to the Jedi. His face didn't look nearly as relaxed as it had just a few minutes before and the deep lines she had thought had been smoothed became visible once more. The priestess closed her eyes and sighed, a piercing pain on account of the young man's situation spread under her heart. The blossoms she had chosen for the queen wouldn't help him. They only protected the sleep of the healthy. Reaja pondered for a while, but then reached for the small bag she always carried and and took out a rust-red petal with broad, ragged edges. 

As careful as possible she rolled the petal and placed it into the Jedi's mouth, waiting for it to dissolve. It didn't take long and she could watch his features relax, just as she felt him leaving the dream behind. 

The leaves of the Tandara-tree were plucked only during a certain period of time, since they had their full effect only once in a full cycle. Mildly hallucinogenic and antispasmodic substances accumulated on the leather-like surface of the reddish-brown leaves just before the great rains started. Those substances repressed the bodily causes for nightmares. 

She hoped that this effects wouldn't be only temporary in Kenobi's special case. 

For a while she stayed and watched the sleepers, then she rose without a sound and left, quiet as a thief in the night. 

***

In the late afternoon of the fifth day after the queen's mysterious journey away from the Theed temple, Sabe slowly started to feel less uncomfortable with her task. From the waterfall side the warm wind coming from the plains found its way through the open windows into the queen's high study that was lined by shining columns. The handmaiden who, clad in the royal gowns, looked like a flawless image of the queen sat bent over a broad desk of high-grade wood on which papers and datapads were scattered everywhere. The high doors of the room were closed and beyond them the softly dampened sounds of the servants scurrying past and walking busily in the hallways. Tired she brushed her index and middle fingers over her furrowed eyebrows and tried to prevent the frown that slowly became painful. 

Again and again she read the documents that would be talked about in the audience. Was Amidala really occupying herself with this dry stuff all day long? 

Quietly sighing she reached for the glass carafe and poured some of the ruby-red nectar which she knew Amidala loved. It surprised her how close this little gesture made her feel to the queen. The nectar was sweet and full-bodied, it tickled slightly on her tongue. Careful not to bend the overtaxed muscles too much, she turned her head. The food one of the handmaidens had brought her hours ago, had gone cold without her having touched it. She didn't feel hungry, her anxiety level was too high. 

She had taken the queen's place a few time before, but Amidala had always been by her side during those times. Multiple times Sabé had caught herself looking over her shoulder for an affirmative gesture of the queen, which didn't come. Couldn't come. The first days had been horrible. As long as she had known that the queen was at the healer temple, she had been sure, ever seemingly unfathomable problem hadn't seemed quite so threatening – if only just because the queen was close. But now she was alone and all the decision that were coming up had to be made by her, without the safety of being able to ask Amidala for advice. Even just thinking of the upcoming audiences caused her palms to grow damp. She had had a good training, she knew how to handle situations like this. But it was completely different having learned something in theory and then being confronted by the harsh reality. 

Impatiently she swept her left hand over the scattered documents in front of her and tried to get them in some kind of order. Amidala was not a perfect woman, but she was very tidy and anyone entering the room now would have realised that something was wrong. 

A small ray of sunlight fell through the crack in the half closed, heavy curtains and caused the continuously swirling dust in the room to sparkle strangely. For a few blinks of an eye she lost herself in watching this spectacle and forgot everything around her. 

The respectful knock on the high door startled her out of her daydreams and once more she scolded herself for not paying attention. 

Trying to imitate Amidala's cool tone of voice she said: "Yes?" 

The voice of Eirtae, one of her subordinate handmaidens, sounded slightly muffled through the door. "Mistress, Governor Bibble asks for permission to send you more petitions for the audience." 

Suddenly Sabé had the urge to hit her head against the desk. Hard. 

How could Amidala possibly take all this? 

Slowly she rose from the chair that was covered with a dark, soft material and stretched her hurting back before she walked up to the door to open it - against palace regulations - by hand. She had watched Amidala do this a lot of time before and she had always admired it, since it took a lot of the nearly fearful diffidence the handmaidens felt for the queen. 

Eirtae's eyes wandered quickly and unbeknownst to others over face and clothing of the woman in front of her. Everything was perfect and no one who didn't know could have guessed that the woman who was standing here was not the queen. 

Eirtae handed Sabé another pile of datapads. She was acting correctly . the queen hadn't asked her to enter her study, so she wasn't allowed to carry the pads to the ruler's desk. Another careful glance revealed the untouched glass plate where the meal had gone cold. Eirtae's eyebrows furrowed disapprovingly - just slightly enough to not make other scurrying-by servants see it, but distinctly enough to make Sabé see it quite well. 

Sabé took a step to the side and with a quick nod of her head motioned for Eirtae to follow her into the study. 

Behind them the draught billowed the heavy curtains. 

Without closing the door the handmaiden took the datapads out of the queen's hands, walked to the desk with quick steps and placed them there. 

Then she turned towards Sabé. "You look tired," she whispered barely audible. "Why didn't you eat?" 

Sabé bent her head slightly and reminded Eirtae with this so much of Amidala, that shivers ran up and down her spine. She could see it in Sabé's eyes that the young woman didn't know about the effects she was having on others, but the illusion was perfect. 

An exhausted smile flickered over the features of the woman in the queen's role. "I can't rest now, Eirtae," she whispered back. "And I'm not hungry." 

Even the tone of her voice had changed when Sabé was talking now. The words were chosen softly, but they made unmistakably clear that her actions were not to be questioned. 

Eirtae bowed quickly and rushed towards the door that was threateningly close to slamming shut due to the wind that was coming through the open windows. She caught the richly engraved door in the very last second and turned towards the woman who had sat down behind the desk one last time. 

"I will have your dinner sent right away, your highness," she informed quietly. 

Sabé's eyes rose form the petitions and she cast a warm glance at the fellow handmaiden. "Thank you." 

Eirtae closed the heavy doors with a smile. 

The wind that moved through the windows now carried with it the smell of the falling evening and the queen's study was being bathed in the soft light of the sinking sun, without being noticed by Sabe, who had bent over the petitions once more. 

***

The sound of the light sabre swishing through the air had burned itself in her thoughts as if it was a part of her. She knew it, felt the elegance of this weapon that was reserved for Jedi only and she admired it. Nevertheless this noise, mingled with the hard humming of the training probe became unbearable after several hours of listening to it. 

Hours. Had it been going on that long already? 

The Jedi fought his body with ferocity, he trained his movements, always fighting the small spherical and in her ears maliciously humming training probe: Somersaulted, struck, evaded, attacked, retreated again. . . seemingly endless. 

The low whirring of the sabre triggered dizziness in Padme. She had repeatedly tried to get him to take a break, but he had only gritted his teeth and shaken his head. He had to train. He mustn't get weak. Those had been his words. 

But didn't he see for himself that he was working towards a complete breakdown? 

Sweat had soaked his tunic and he had taken it off. He went through Kata after Kata, higher grades, more difficult exercises, higher levels of stress. The sweat on his bare chest mingled with the blood seeping from uncountable little wounds. The probe wasn't really dangerous, but it caused great amounts of pain and small wounds which only tortured his exhausted body further. 

She didn't know how he could stand torturing his own body like that. She knew the effects of this kind of training herself - her teachers had often made her repeat certain exercises until the point of exhaustion, but they had always been there to stop her from overdoing it. There was no logic in this self-torture. The outcome of this training couldn't be his body shutting down from exhaustion. She saw the pain on his face, saw the way all of his muscles screamed against this maltreatment - but he stoically kept pushing himself further. 

In the beginning it had fascinated her to watch him. His movements held an elegance she had seen only very seldom in fighters, they were fluid and graceful, never ever looked strained. 

But now his movements were edgy, just as if only his strong will was keeping him from collapsing. 

Her hands cramped in the soft material of her tunic as she walked up to him over the clearing with determined steps. She had watched this long enough. He was not going to abuse himself to death in front of her eyes. 

Long shadows began to move over the clearing in the middle of the jungle and indicated that evening was near. 

Again the probe whizzed at the Jedi with a menacing hum - and this time he stumbled, giving the unit a free line of shot. A fine line of purple light rushed up to Kenobi and hit him in his unprepared sword arm. With a muffled scream he dropped the light sabre - it fell to the ground and the green light vanished immediately. The probe whizzed with the unpleasant buzzing of an angry insect around Kenobi and got ready to fire again. 

The unit would never fire again. The well-known sound of the light sabre parted the air and the probe, not programmed to fight two opponents, fell apart with a shrill whiz as the sabre caught it. 

When Obi-Wan raised his head to look out for the unit, he saw the probe neatly severed into two different parts lying on the soft forest soil. Next to it stood the queen - the recently fallen light sabre gripped firmly and elegantly in both hands. In her eyes sadness, disappointment and slight anger were mingled. Without a word she deactivated the sabre and walked back to the temple buildings, clutching the weapon firmly in her hand. 

"Please . . ." 

She didn't hear his hoarse whisper. He stayed behind, alone in the clearing, night falling over him and he felt so lonely and weak that he could have screamed from the agony of it. 

***

TBC


	12. XII

Circle of healing_12_arial **__**

XII.   


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Down to the earth I fell 

__

With dripping wings 

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Heavy things won't fly. 

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(Nina Gordon)   


"But . . ."

"That was my final word in this matter!"

The door slammed with a loud bang and was being locked from the outside. The young girl stood in the middle of the room in a rebellious posture for a while, breathing quickly, then her shoulders slumped and she went back a few steps and dropped on the small bed.

Well, this had been a clear technical K.O.. And this time there was no chance for her to get out of this situation. But did she have to be punished for days?

She would be allowed to be with the others during the time when she had lessons and duties, but aside from that, she would be confined to her room. To meditate about the meaning of bans, the high priestess had said. 

Naara shivered inside when she thought of the cool and appraising look of the influential woman. As was true of many of the young girls in the temple, Naara was scared of Aethra. Naara never was quite sure if the priestess actually tried to look threatening, or if it was just the way she was - but no matter what, it didn't help her situation right now.

Aethra had known exactly where to get Naara, she had known which punishment would be the hardest for the girl.

Detention . . . Naara huffed indignantly. Wasn't she a little too old for this by now? Detention was given to small children, and she wasn't a small child anymore, she was a novice of the healer temple!

Besides she was hungry. In addition Aethra had ordered that she should go to her chamber without dinner this night.

If she had not been so agitated about how her little trip to the Garden of silence had been blown up, she surely would have laughed about the whole situation. Nevertheless right now she missed the late-evening talks to her friends in the temple and her stomach rumbled loudly.

Startled, she glanced around in the room - she was nearly afraid the rumbling could be heard in the next room. But then she remembered how thick the walls of the temple were. She could have screamed and the only one to hear her would have been the small bird with the multicoloured feathers who had alighted on the window ledge.

A broad, pleased smile crossed Naara's freckled features. For nearly half a circle the bird came to her every evening and waited for her to feed him some bread crumbs and other stolen treats from the dinner table. Instantly some of the happy glowing disappeared from the young girl's face.

"I'm sorry, my little friend. There is nothing I can share with you tonight."

The bird bent his head slightly and looked at her questioningly with his shining black eyes. Naara inched a little closer to the open window - just near enough to not scare the bird, but to watch him more closely.

The last rays of the sun that was setting in a deep dark red behind the horizon cast reflexes on the small bird and shimmered on his colourful feathers. As if the small animal were sensing the mood of its little benefactress, it came a little closer and pecked its bill on the window ledge.

Naara's heart beat faster and she forgot about all of the trials and tribulations of the world in front of the door of her chamber - the bird had never come quite so close to her before. Carefully placing one arm over the other, she rested her head on the makeshift pillow, so that her face was merely inches away from the animal. The shining black eyes of the bird were at the same height as her bright blue ones.

Again her stomach rumbled and the bird jumped away with a startled little sound - but it didn't fly away. The warm smile returned to Naara's face.

"Looks like we will both have to stay hungry tonight, little friend," she whispered.

A warm breeze from the plains whispered through her open window and caressed her still flushed cheeks soothingly. From her window she could see the plains stretching out, saw how the river, uniting after its way through the many waterfalls, meandered through the vast forests and she saw how the lowlands slowly rose into the mountain regions - softly curved mountain ranges which shimmered unsubstantially in the dusky light of the evening, causing wanderlust to swell her heart with painful joy.

Naara sighed softly. The following days wouldn't be easy. But it could have been worse. The window could have . . .

Her sudden wave of self-pity was forgotten, when the bird unexpectedly started to sing. The wistful twittering filled the little room and was then carried away by the wind, taking it with him on his wings, spreading the tiny song over the plains. But this song was meant only for Naara. She was absolutely certain of it.

With a happy sigh she closed her eyes and allowed the wind to tousle her jet black hair, while she listened to the song of the bird, using it to dream herself into another world.

Obi-Wan limply dropped to his knees as the queen turned her back on him. His body, his mind, everything hurt, but for the first time in a long line of events he felt alive enough to actually realise the pain. This time it didn't sink down to the dull pounding that threatened to make him go insane. The pain was glaring and nearly unbearable and his body screamed for a release - no matter of what kind.

Obi-Wan fell to the side and simply lay there without moving anymore. His eyes were closed and his breathing was ragged and he desperately tried to remember how he could escape the pain without calling the force for help. But his memory failed him, and tears of shame and humiliation burned in his eyes at this failure.

He didn't pick up on the light steps of the small feet until a sponge, soaked with warm, slightly scented water was being smoothed over his face and chest. Small, circling movements on his cool, hurting skin. He had known about her gentleness, but not about the soft touches of her hands and the miracles they could do. He didn't fight the gentle, caring movements and allowed her to wash his abused body and to apply a slightly stinging ointment to the many small wounds. All this time he kept his eyes closed - too deeply rooted was the shame that she had to treat him like a small child because he didn't have any power at all left in his body. He was grateful that she didn't ask why he had taken up this torture, even though he clearly felt that the question was burning on her tongue.

Strangely enough he only felt her hands during all this time, and there and then her warm breath when she bent over him. Nothing else. Time ceased to exist.

Carefully her small hands helped him to sit up, pulled a clean tunic over his head and placed a bowl of hot, spiced tea in his hands which he gratefully drank.

He didn't dare open his eyes. An unreal fear arose in him, whispered to him that she would turn him down and hurt him deeply.

Padme sensed the doubts in him and she carefully ran one hand over his short-cropped hair.

"Look at me, Jedi Kenobi," she asked softly.

It took him a long time to acknowledge her plea.

Obi-Wan had the feeling of falling into those gentle brown eyes in front of him from an incredible height. But even though a part of him felt a gnawing fear, he knew with a great certainty that there was no pain waiting for him here. No, no pain.

But what frightened him so much, then?

The queen's lower lip trembled slightly as she tried to read the emotions she saw in his eyes, the emotions he didn't hide enough.

His soul yearned for her soft eyes, yearned for the understanding they offered.

Carefully she raised her slim hand and placed it on his cool cheek.

A short impulse coursed through his body and his eyes flickered in surprise. As if an electric shock had . . . but no – no. There was no pain.

Her hand was warm while it slowly found a resting place on his cheek and tenderly ran her thumb over the deep dark circles under his eyes.

"You should rest, Jedi Kenobi."

A weak but honest smile curled Obi-Wan's lips. How many times had he heard that sentence in the past weeks? It seemed absurd to him to hear it coming from her as well.

"I know," he answered tiredly.

His smile was mirrored on her face and gave it more warmth and vulnerability. The cool moonlight shone on her dark hair and made Padme glow strangely.

Obi-Wan shivered. This silver-blue glowing brought back memories he had thought buried. Her hand on his cheek suddenly made him feel sick and he hastily moved away from her touch.

He saw a hot wave of shame and disappointment flushing her cheeks, only to be replaced by fierce defiance. He appreciated that she suppressed any snide comment that might have been on the tip of her tongue.

She rose quickly and left for the temple with even strides, hard pressed to not make it look like the escape it actually was.

A loud bang woke Naara from her light slumber.

"Oh, by the seven hells of . . ."

The curse was continued quietly, making it impossible for Naara to identify which seven hells were being referred to here. Meanwhile it was inky black in her chamber and she couldn't make out who had sneaked into her chamber even though she wasn't allowed to have any visitors.

Carefully Naara slid off her spot at the open window and much to her dismay she realised that her legs didn't obey her the way they usually did. She landed a little roughly on her behind on the hard stone floor. In the cool, silvery moonlight that filtered into the room in broad rays, Naara looked into the tired face of the healer priestess Reaja, who was kneeling on the floor as well.

"You are awake?" the priestess whispered surprised. "You ought to be asleep!"

Naara stared into the older woman's kind face for a while, then the words burst out of her: "Actually I was supposed to stay alone and not have any visitors, too."

Reaja smiled and got to the task of retrieving everything she had dropped. The girl glimpsed fruit and a closed bowl that had taken no damage.

"She really sent you to your chamber without dinner?" Reaja dug deeper. Without waiting for an answer, she shook her head in disbelief

"Uh-hu," Naara agreed. "Even though I only . . ."

"Don't go there, Naara. I don't even want to know what you _only_ did."

The girl shut her mouth, offended, and frowned.

"But I don't think it's just that you have to stay hungry while the kitchen is positively overflowing. That's not right."

Reaja asked herself why of all things she was trying to justify her actions in front of this child. The curious bright eyes of the slim girl hung on her like two twinkling stars in the night and next to the gratefulness she saw slight indignation shimmering there. Indignation about the fact that she - Reaja - hadn't spoken up for her. But Reaja was too old to let herself be wrapped around this child's fingers by those expressive eyes. She had seen many generations of novices, and there had been a few of Naara's mischievous calibre.

No, she had heard what had happened and the confinement to her room had been justified. But not allowing her to have dinner was not. That was the reason she had sneaked down here as soon as night had fallen.

Reaja placed the fruits and a little silver spoon on the bed after she had cleaned them on the hem of her dress. Naara's eyes grew from second to second, and the true affection and the joy she saw in this child's big eyes, warmed the priestess's heart. What was it about this girl that made her become so soft?

"Eat quickly," she instructed the girl. While Naara devoured what Reaja had brought for her ravenously, the priestess went on talking: "I'll take the bowl and the leftovers with me, to make sure no one finds out I was here."

Naara chewed and smiled at her happily, little dimples forming on her cheeks.

The priestess rose and closed half of the window to keep out most of the now cool night air and out of habit folded a carelessly thrown aside tunic. She was hard pressed to hide the upcoming laughter when she heard Naara audibly licking her fingers clean. Reaja turned around and gave the girl a damp cloth to clean hands and mouth.

"Don't forget to look really hungry in the morning, you hear?", the priestess reminded her jokingly. "No one must know about my little visit here, you promise me?"

Naara hid a yawn behind her slim hand. It wasn't unusually late, but the eventful day had left his traces on her, and she was drop-dead tired. "I will keep quiet as if I had pledged . . ."

Reaja shook her head and gently steered the girl towards the bed. "No, no stories. Just make sure this stays between the two of us." She smiled conspirationally and pulled back the comforter. "Off to bed with you now, little one."

Willingly Naara crawled into the narrow bed under the window and snuggled into the pillow. Her eyes had already closed when she remembered something and sat up again.

"Healer Reaja?"

The priestess who had already walked a few steps towards the door, turned around again. "Yes?"

Slim arms reached out and closed tightly around Reaja.

"Thank you," the girl murmured into the folds of her robe.

For a moment Reaja was speechless. Then she quickly hugged the dishevelled curly head against her shoulder. She waited a few blinks of an eye until Naara had snuggled back into her pillow and then spread the comforter over her.

Reaja drew a protective rune over the fragile novice before she turned to go. The cool moonlight played on the child's face when she tiptoed out of the room.

Obi-Wan stared after her and immediately felt the sharp sting of regret under his heart. 

She couldn't understand what had led to this dismissive reaction of his. She didn't deserve to be pushed away like this. Everything he had seen in her eyes had been honest worry and gentleness. 

Why? Why did she treat him like this when everything he did had to be interpreted as dismissive and nearly rude? 

The Jedi raised his face to the night sky and felt the cool air on his closed eyes. The evening couldn't end like this. Not with a misunderstanding like this.

Padme breathed deeply and heavily against her anger and her hurt pride. Being pushed away by him like that, all of a sudden, had hurt her more than she could and wanted to admit. With her hands balled into fists she paced restlessly around the small room that accomodated their beds.

What had she done? Why had he given her the feeling that she was poking around in something that was entirely not her business? Why had he pushed her away? Padme didn't understand.

She remembered the pained look of the Jedi that she had glimpsed before everything had started going wrong. She was far from condemning him, but slowly she didn't know how to act around him any longer. When she left him alone, she felt his lonely gazes resting on her, when she tried to act casually, he didn't participate, when she tried to get closer to him, he pushed her away.

What else could she do?

The whispering noise of fine leather boots on the hard stone floor indicated her that she was no longer alone.

She didn't turn to face him. No, not this time. She had reached out for him far too often. This time she would wait for him to explain his actions.

"I am sorry, your highness."

Involuntarily her stomach contracted upon the down cast tone of his voice. When she had found her composure again, she turned around.

He stood in front of her with the expression of a beaten puppy - so unintentionally piteously that Padme's heart jumped painfully at the sight. But they weren't ready. Not yet.

"Will you explain it to me?"

Obi-Wan stared intently at his boots, just as though there was something extremely interesting to see.

"I don't know if I can."

"You could at least try." Her voice had lost a lot of its sharp edge and now only sounded tired.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think that I . . ."

She raised her right hand in a sharp commanding gesture and effectively silenced him with that. "No. No further. You will try. Here and now. Even if it takes all night."

Upon hearing her sudden hard tone of voice, Obi-Wan looked up from his boots in surprise. He could see why she had been elected queen. The gentle facade hid a sharply thinking mind and a boiling temper, tamed but there nevertheless, coupled with intelligence and sensitivity. 

__

'She would have been a good Jedi', the sentence shot through his head at light speed. But it didn't stay for very long.

Her gaze still rested on him and he started feeling more than uncomfortable in his own skin. Surely an explanation was needed, just as an apology, but did it have to lead to _this_? Did she really have to get an answer to every single one of her questions? Now?

Meanwhile Padme had folded the arms in front of her chest and cocked her head slightly - offering the picture of impatient waiting. Obi-Wan sighed inwardly. There was no way around this. The ointment she had applied to his wounds had healed the fine lacerations incredibly fast - so he couldn't even say he wasn't feeling well. Just why was she so obsessed with talking all the time? Didn't she have a need for silence?

__

'Diplomacy, Obi-Wan', he reminded himself. _'Where are your manners?'_

He spoke for a long while, so that neither of them realised the time passing.

Padme had settled on the bed, lying on her stomach, chin resting in her hands. She listened to the pleasantly warm sound of his voice, which sometimes barely rose over the soft rustling of the wind in the trees, when he spoke of particularly painful events

When finally--midnight had passed long ago--a longer pause arose, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and raked both hands through his hair. 

Questions had been answered and misunderstandings had been settled, but now, after so many things had been said, he felt empty and worn out. Fatigue rolled over him and he didn't have to look at the queen to know that she wasn't any better off.

She had listened to him all night long, not for the tiniest of moments had her attention been distracted, not a single time had she given him the feeling of bothering her with the things he said. They had talked about him and about her, had made concessions and confessed weaknesses, had shared memories and pain.

Obi-Wan hadn't known that the queen had been so deeply affected when learning of Qui-Gon's death. The empty space in his heart that had taken Qui-Gon's place stung again when he thought of his mentor and he willed the thought to leave his consciousness. During the last days he had become a master of self-deception and even though he knew that this was the wrong way, it was the less painful way, and he just couldn't go the other one right now.

He had had enough pain. Enough pain to last a lifetime.

And yet there were so many things he hadn't talked about. Things he would have liked to confide to the queen, but didn't know how. In her warm brown eyes he found absolution where he hadn't expected any, they were like whispering caresses on his troubled soul.

But when Qui-Gon had died, more had happened.

More than she saw and understood. More than even the council knew.

But before he confided it to anyone, he had to admit what had happened to himself. But it was so hard, so incredibly hard . . .

After a few moments he opened his eyes again - surprised that she wasn't replying anything. What he saw caused a wistful smile to flicker across his features.

The queen had placed both hands under her head and was fast asleep. Her breathing was quiet and deep. Single strands of the long hair fell into her face. Gently he pulled the blanket up to her shoulders, tenderly smoothed the hair out of the beautiful face, and gazed at the scene in front of him. He envied her for this peace he couldn't seem to find anymore.

TBC


	13. XIII

Circle of healing_13_arial __

XIII.

__

Once, as my heart remembers

All the stars were fallen embers

Once, when night seemed forever

I was with you

(Roma Ryan)

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Obi-Wan woke up from a deep sleep. It wasn't the usual soft floating from sleep into a waking state, but an abrupt, nearly painful wakening. He rubbed his pounding temples and breathed deeply. Just like uncountable times before his heart raced painfully. But this time he couldn't remember his dream. It wasn't the monster that robbed him of his sleep like every other night. 

This had been different . . . This fear was so strange to him, just as if it was part of him - yet not really his. Nevertheless his heartbeat didn't slow down and his breathing became quicker, as if he were being hunted. 

Alone. He was alone . . . Where was the queen? Shouldn't she be with him? Hadn't Reaja left her in his care? 

His eyes travelled though the dark room and the feeling of loneliness became stronger. 

Alone. He was alone now, completely, utterly alone. There was no one he could talk to, no one who understood him. 

Without wasting a thought to his boots, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and walked into the cool night air barefoot. 

Light. Most of all he needed more light. More than the soft glowing that surrounded him. 

She couldn't have disappeared. She had to be here somewhere. Maybe she had ris . . . 

His thoughts came to an abrupt halt. How did he know she had been in one room with him? What gave him this certainty? 

Blurred and faint traces of Reaja's voice came to the surface of his mind and slowly formed into an unified picture. Yes, they had been accommodated in _one_ room, a room that held special powers, a room that could channel the energies of the body due to its inclusionof rare gems and its special location in the planet's magnetic field. It was supposed to help the sleepers travel the hard road of separating their souls. But when they shared this room, why couldn't he feel her presence? 

The stones were rough and cool under his naked feet and his legs protested under the sudden exertion. In the deep darkness of the night the temple buildings seemed menacing and dead. 

Where was she? Why had she risen at all? 

In the dark, he collided with a rock and felt glaring pain shooting up his shin. For a few seconds he was tempted to use all the swear words he had heard in his whole life, but after a while he remembered his training and brought himself in unison with the pain - accepted it and therefore lowered its effects. 

A quick movement in front of him caused him to fall into a lurking posture. Every muscle of his body tensed. He listened. 

Quiet crackling told him that something or someone came closer. But he couldn't feel anything yet, couldn't say whether the things that crept through the darkness was friend or enemy. Was he still asleep? Was all of this part of a dream? 

He carefully inched closer until he collided blindly with a warm body and in a state of slight shock lost his balance. 

He landed roughly on his behind. 

"Are you all right, Jedi Kenobi?" 

For a few breaths, Obi-Wan was simply too baffled to be able to react. Then little by little the unsteady tone of her voice seeped into his mind and his concern awoke. 

"Just a little hurt pride, nothing else," he answered. After a slight pause in which he scrambled to his feet, he continued: "Why are you out here, your majesty?" 

The night was overcast and not an iota of light came through the treetops. Obi-Wan heard her pulling her cloak more tightly around her shoulders to block out the nightly cool. 

"I needed to think." 

"Here?" 

"What's wrong with this place? The air is fresh and I didn't mean to wake you." 

""That's why you went so far away? For some fresh air?" 

Padme sighed audibly. "No. To be quite frank: You snored, Jedi Kenobi. I couldn't sleep." 

Obi-Wan felt his face starting to flush. "I'm terribly sorry, your majesty, I'm sure I . . ." 

"Great knight, do you need daylight to recognise humour?" 

A more than just slightly amused tone reverberated in her voice. Even though he didn't see it, Obi-Wan knew that she had turned towards him and smiled over her whole face - one of those rare, honestly amused smiles. 

A warm and reassuring feeling rose inside of him and slowly spread from his stomach into his whole body. The darkness around him should have made him feel uneasy, and yes, a part of him _did_ feel uneasy, being so far away from the light, but that part of him was too weak right now. The queen exuded a peace he had believed to be long lost. 

He sank to the soft ground next to her and stared off into the darkness. Nevertheless he had to ask her. He had to know why she sneaked out in the middle of the night to flee into the deepest darkness. 

"Why are you _really_ out here, your highness?" 

A short pause followed in which he felt her hand fleetingly touching his shoulder as she pushed back her long hair. 

"It's enough. Don't you think that we're making fools of ourselves?" 

Obi-Wan tensed upon hearing the earnestness in her voice. "Fools?" he echoed. 

She released the air from her lungs and the soft rustling of clothes told him that she had turned to him even further. "We are alone here for a longer period of time, and we are connected in so many ways . . . Don't you think it would be time to set aside the formalities?" 

Was it just due to the late hour, or was his mind working incredibly slow just now, Obi-Wan mused. 

"The . . . formalities, your Majesty?" 

"You are incorrigible, great knight." 

He wasn't sure whether he was supposed to feel flattered or insulted upon the repeated use of her nick-name for him. She couldn't possible ask him to . . . 

"I want to leave the palace behind me for the rest of our stay here. That is why I want you to use my real name . . . ," she hesitated before finishing the sentence, " . . . Obi-Wan." 

The spot where he sat suddenly became more than uncomfortable and he started fidgeting uneasily. "I'm not quite sure that this is a good idea, your Ma . . ." 

A small warm hand shot forward and clamped over his mouth. 

"Do I have to make this an order?" 

He shook his head and she removed her hand - as though she were shocked by her own impulsive actions. 

"Good," she murmured softly. "Good." Another pause followed. "It's been such a long time since anybody has spoken my given name without all the formalities. Sometimes I wonder if all those formalities have grown together with me. Would my name sound different without all the things the palace has made it become?" 

Was this question directed at him? Padme couldn't tell. But when she didn't feel any rejection from the Jedi, she decided to walk further down the path she had chosen to go. 

"Could you..." She stopped and thought quickly. If she wanted to avoid formalities, she had to avoid using his title. Could she do that? She had used the titles of the people surrounding her all her life, even in the vague memories of her mother she couldn't think of real informal times. But she had missed out on so many things because they hadn't been allowed. Why should she stop half way now? 

"Could you..." It sounded wrong in her own ears, terribly wrong, but she went on talking, "...do me a favour and just...say my name? Without the formalities? As though we were...friends?" 

It still sounded nearly impure to her own ears, but she had decided. She would set the formalities aside. 

Despite the darkness and the uselessness of the gesture, Obi-Wan shook his head. "That would only complicate things when we are back at the palace . . ." 

"But _we are not_ in the palace!" she interrupted him heatedly. 

No, they weren't in the palace. But considering the cold shoulder the Jedi was showing her, they might as well have been there. 

As if he had read her thoughts, Kenobi said so quietly that she had to strain her ears to hear it: "I will try . . ." 

__

‚Try, try,' Yoda's disapproving voice suddenly was audible in his head. _‚Do, or do not. There is no try.'_

A slight smile stole forth on his lips at the thought of the little green Master. And for the first time since he thought of the council and of Yoda, the thoughts weren't accompanied by images of Qui-Gon. 

__

‚Always in motion, the future is.' This favourite saying of Yoda came back to him as well. What kind of harm could it do to take another step into this future? 

Who told him that there really would be troubles with the etiquette once they returned to the palace? They both were trained far too well to walk into such stupid traps. At least that was what he hoped. 

But despite all those good reasons his insides fiercely disagreed with this break of protocol. He fought it down. "Well, if your Majesty wants to be rebellious . . ." 

He felt clearly the way she stretched her slim back against his words and took a deep breath to interrupt him. But before she managed to say something, he resumed: "Then I will not stand in your way." 

Obi-Wan rose, offered her a hand in the dark and pulled her to her feet. "Nevertheless we should go back to the temple. . . _Padme_." 

The smooth movement of her rising stopped abruptly and she froze as she heard her name flowing from his lips just like liquid velvet. 

It sounded to strange. Yet so very, very familiar and intimate. 

She squeezed his hand a little more in a silent thanks. Then she rose completely and breathed deeply. Memories of the palace flooded her. With them came an overwhelming feeling of freedom and joy of life. She started to laugh softly. 

Obi-Wan didn't know how to place this laughter and stopped surprised. Where had that come from? For a few moments he listened to the pleasant sound and pushed the fact that he enjoyed this laughter into the farthest part of his mind. 

"What's so funny?" 

The laughter became loud and melodious and Obi-Wan was hard pressed not to join her. Laughing still seemed wrong to him, but he couldn't help a broad smile stealing forth on his face. 

"What?" he repeated his question. "What's so funny?" 

Padme breathed a few times before she could answer again. "All of this. I feel like a rebellious acolyte. I'm actually waiting to hear the strict voice of my teachers any second now, reminding me with a stern face that I am doing something that is forbidden." 

Obi-Wan remembered the many times he had sneaked out of his room in the temple, to talk to friends, or to get some more food to quell his - back then - everlasting hunger. He knew exactly what Padme was talking about. And suddenly he understood her mood. 

"Was it prohibited to use given names?" 

She laughed again. "Oh no, that was more of an unwritten law. There were other things. No fast running in the hallways, no nightly trips to other rooms, no unseemly comments, no loud laughter. . ." 

Something else took form in Padme's memory. She slipped out of the Jedi's closeness. 

"And there was another ban . . . I intend to ignore now." 

Crouched and with incredible speed she rushed lithely into the dark forest before Obi-Wan could stop her and soon her quick steps could only be heard in the distance. 

"Your high . . . Padme!" he called into the darkness spreading out in front of him. 

He didn't share her strange mood. Quite the opposite - the darkness and this boisterous mood worried him. She wasn't quite as attentive as she should have been, and she could easily break her neck if she stumbled over one of the high roots or the scattered rocks. And even if the restrictions she had listed really didn't sound all that important, she hadn't told him about this last one. He knew from the temple that there were certain rules that children loved to think of breaking, but which were more than necessary to save their lives. Who told him that this ban she was about to ignore wasn't one of the latter category? Children were reckless, and if her only memory of this ban was from her childhood days, she might not be able to see the danger it was supposed keep them from. Above all, he had no idea where she had run to. 

Concern washed over him and his heart started to beat faster. How was he supposed to find her before the day dawned? What if it was already too late by then? The young Jedi ran into the darkness blindly, and - still cut off from the force - he tried to let his feelings guide him. 

His breathing was fast and irregular as he slipped in between the high trees. Now and then he stopped and tried to pick up the sound of her feet, but to no avail. In the meantime the worst could have happened, and he wasn't there to save her from herself. 

The soft splashing of water caused him to stop once more. The sound was distinctly audible here. He couldn't see her, but he picked up the smell of her hair that had been perfumed before they had left the capitol. For a few moments he just stood there and breathed in this smell. It surprised him how familiar this fine and so very feminine scent already was. 

"Which restriction was worth leaving the safety of the temple?" he asked when he stepped out of the forests darkness into the warm light that surrounded the clearing. 

His eyes had some difficulties trying to adjust to the new source of light, but after a while he spotted a huge round basin in which steps were leading down. It was filled with water which released its warmth through thick clouds of steam. This place had to be part of the temple - Obi-Wan recognised the same style of building. Nevertheless he didn't know anything about the hot springs on Naboo. 

"Your majesty?" 

The steam hid the basin which was shimmering nearly completely golden in the strange light and he couldn't make out the queen anywhere. For a moment he was surprised that she didn't protest against him lapsing back into the old way of calling her. Where was she? Even though he could still pick up the scent of her hair, he couldn't find her. An unpleasant fluttering in his stomach became distinct, and heavy cold which had never quite left his body returned. He couldn't be too late again, could he? What if there was a much bigger danger than she had predicted? Worry sent his mind reeling 

"Padme?" 

This time her given name flowed over his lips perfectly naturally - every thought of formality was forgotten. An iron clamp pressed his heart together. He couldn't estimate how big this basin was, since the steam covered everything with a milky veil that that was impossible to see through. 

"Padme?" 

She still didn't answer and his worry became overwhelming, washed away all other thoughts until his mind was only whirling around her. Around that woman, whose life had been placed in his hands. Was he letting her down again? 

Obi-Wan shook his head hard against the dark feelings of resignation and inadequacy that rose up in him. He had to find her. But how was he supposed to do this when she didn't answer him and when he couldn't see anything? Troubled, he walked deeper into the thick clouds of steam until his outstretched hands collided with a solid wall. So this was not the right way. Further attempts into other directions failed as well. His mind whirled around another possibility he had ignored so far. 

They had been sent here to separate their souls. Didn't that mean that they were still sharing a connection? But could he use this connection when it had to be severed so urgently? Obi-Wan was caught in an inner struggle between his task and his worry for the queen. But this struggle didn't last very long. Qui-Gon had always lived the proof that sometimes it was better to ignore rules and regulations, to save a life. 

Carefully placing one foot in front of the other, he sank down at the edge of the basin onto the warm marble floor and retreated into himself, to allow the connection between the queen and him to burn brightly again. Without calling to the force for help, it took him far too long for his own taste to calm his mind enough to be able to find the sparkling dewdrop of the other life inside of him. She exuded endless calm. A calm that alarmed him, that was so extensive that it didn't seem natural to him any longer. She was in the water, that much was certain. But what did this unusual calm of her mind mean? Could it be . . . 

Without wasting another second, Obi-Wan pulled off his light tunic and jumped. The water was pleasantly warm, even hot, and his thoroughly chilled body soaked up the warmth like a sponge. The Jedi held onto the spark of life which connected him with the queen, and swam with long, powerful strokes in the direction from which this sign of life was coming. Due to the thick steam he could barely see his hand in front of his eyes. A few more efficient strokes and he had reached her. 

She was floating on the surface, face raised to the night sky, eyes closed, her posture perfectly serene and motionless. 

His mind shut down. Without thinking he slung an arm around her waist, placed a hand under her chin and started swimming towards the side of the basin. Her long, wet hair surrounded him like a soft web while he was swimming. He had forgotten about how difficult it could be to carry someone in the water. 

So it was even more unexpected for him that the body that had been deathly still in his arms just seconds ago, suddenly started to thrash and fight against his steely grip. With admiring agility she moved out of his arms and turned in the water to stare at him in shock. 

"What was that supp . . ." She didn't get any further. Relief about her obvious well-being flooded Obi-Wan so hard that he could only react impulsively. 

His feet found the smooth marble floor of the pool and with a single, fluid movement he pulled her towards him and pressed her head against his chest, embraced her so fiercely that she could barely breathe. The emotions were as confusing as a raw wound and for a few moments he forgot everything except for the calming fact that she was all right and that he hadn't failed in his duty of protecting her. He hid his face in her wet hair and enjoyed the silent music of her breathing. 

Padme was so confused about all this that she tensed in his arms at first. But her confusion didn't last very long. Closing her eyes, she hesitantly returned his embrace and started to relax.She had been meditating, just like she had been taught to do in the springs and just when her mind had been free of disturbing thoughts, Kenobi had snatched her out of her calm. 

His skin was cool under her cheek and his chest rose and fell quickly, just as if he had been running very fast. What had happened? She clearly felt worry leaving him and making space for relief. But why . . . 

"Obi-Wan?" Her voice was muffled by the vicinity of him and her long lashes slid over his chest as she opened her eyes. The tiny rasp of the red-golden down that had started to form on his face during the last days sensitised every nerve-ending of her cheek. 

He didn't answer directly but gave an affirmative sound. She felt the vibration of the tone going from his skin to hers. Through eyes half open, she saw the fine freckles that were just barely visible against his fair skin. Padme smiled. He didn't sound as controlled as he had before. But he hadn't loosened his embrace and even though they hadn't been standing like that for very long, she knew that she was going to get heavy breathing problems if he didn't let go of her soon. 

"Obi-Wan," she tried again, "I'm not going to vanish. You can let go of me now." 

Immediately his arms fell down and she was free once again . . . and deep inside of her she wished she hadn't said anything. On the other hand the face she was rewarded with was priceless. 

In his misguided attempt of saving her he hadn't thought for a moment that it might be unseemly to . . . He fled out of the water, not casting a single gaze at Padme. 

She looked down at herself, clearly startled because of his reaction, wondering what could have caused it. A white, close-fitting one-piece suit which she had found in one of the rooms close to the spring covered her from head to toe. 

Slowly but steadily it seeped into her mind why Kenobi had reacted the way he had, and without intending to, she started to roar with laughter. The overly correct Jedi had just had a collision he surely hadn't been prepared for in his training. Padme sank back into the water and watched the Jedi whose face was glowing bright red, visible even from where she was. New laughter found its way out of her mouth. 

"Did you never go for a swim in the Jedi Temple?" she asked when she had calmed down a little. 

Padme swam a little closer and watched him curiously. He had started shivering in the crisp night air. But he still wasn't looking at her. 

"Obi-Wan," her voice was calm and she suppressed the sarcastic comment that burned on her tongue. "You're freezing." 

Gracefully she slid out of the water and walked around him. Padme put a finger under his chin and gently forced him to raise his eyes to meet hers. 

"This suit is being worn by the priestesses on certain holidays. There is no need to be overly prudish." When he didn't answer, she let her gaze travel over the sluggishly rising clouds of steam. "We had always been prohibited to go to the springs alone. Outside of high holidays or cleansing rituals you weren't even allowed to set foot close to them," she explained, whispering. "After I had been elected queen, a lot of the myth disappeared and I understood that those springs weren't special at all. It was only the ban that should stop us from being like all the other children." 

As if that had been the pick up line, she slid back into the water. Unfortunately for Obi-Wan, he didn't see the mischievous glitter in her eyes. He was clueless until a wave of the warm water hit him squarely in the face. 

TBC


	14. XIV

XIV __

I finally want to do what I forgot in the last chapters . . .

THANK YOU! For your incredible feedback. You have no idea how happy you're making this wee law-student. :o)

You have the power to make the sun shine even through the darkest nights. 

Thank you for that!!!

But - this chapter shall go out to Mollie. Your feedback left me with an open mouth and utterly at a loss for words. Doesn't happen very often, let me tell yer. :o)

****

_________________________________________________________________

XIV.

I know I can be afraid,

but I'm alive

And I hope that you trust this heart

Behind my tired eyes

(Dido Armstrong)

***

Beads of water trickled out of his hair and down his face. Even wiping the water out of his eyes would have been too much of a task right now. His utter bafflement made him forget every single thing he could have said or done to regain some of his lost dignity. So he simply stared at her, flabbergasted, with eyes big as saucers.

When she saw the look on his face, Padme momentarily was taken aback, but then she stretched contentedly in the water and started to laugh. A low, silvery laugh at first, but it grew louder, trickled from her lips and was so infectious that Obi-Wan couldn't help allowing himself a small grin. Padme put back her head in the water and kept on laughing - casting all the self-control of a queen to the wind.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Obi-Wan asked, hard pressed to keep a straight face.

Her head came up from the water and before he could do so much as blink, another wave of water hit him in the face.

"Is this a sufficient explanation?"

This time he wiped the water out of his eyes with a deliberately stern look on his face.

"Your majesty is not acting quite royally."

He tried to make it sound as stern as possible. She still was the queen and this game seemed highly improper to him. On the other hand her carefree laughter raised his spirits to new and incredible heights and for the first time in a seemingly endless period of time, he started feeling like himself again. Furthermore . . . For how long would he be able to keep a straight face when she stood there in front of him and threw her head back from laughter?

Suddenly the world around him became small, seemed to consist only of this spring and no painful memories surfaced.

"And you, dear knight, are not doing a whole lot to defend yourself," she quipped with a raised eyebrow. With a delicate gesture she dipped the tip of her index finger into the water and splashed one drop directly onto his nose. "Do you take the challenge, great knight?"

One eyebrow shot up - but he still kept his typical Jedi calm. "I don't think that this is a good . . ."

"Aha!"

The wave of water hitting him this time was definitely the biggest of all three.

"So you know from the beginning that you cannot win and you are giving up already? How pathetic."

Obi-Wan didn't answer right away. With a single, fluid movement he was in the warm water of the basin, standing there, facing her, arms lowered in a seemingly defenceless manner.

"Are you sure you know what you are asking for? Sure that you can take this?" The eyebrow was accompanied by a second one and slowly travelled up to his forehead.

For a split second she wondered what his question was aiming at.

The twinkling in his eyes gave her the answer she needed. A pleased smile flickered over her face. So he *did* remember.

"Rules?"

He shook his head, theatrically earnest. "No rules."

Before she could agree, her legs had vanished from under her body and the last thing she saw before she involuntarily dove under, was the thing she had never expected to be allowed to see again.

Obi-Wan Kenobi grinned like an impish little boy.

With unexpected ease Padme dove away from him, swimming under water for a few metres, causing the thick clouds of steam to hide her from him. Agile as a Gungan, she swam silently up to the seemingly innocent Jedi. They collided with an audible thud - she had hit him right in his diaphragm and thus forced all air out of his lungs.

For a few painful moments he gasped for breath, and immediately she was at his side, placing a slim hand on his arm.

"Are you alright?"

Unfortunately for her, she didn't see the glittering in his eyes. His hands shot at her shoulders and pressed her under water, then let go instantaneously - only to splash a huge wave of the warm water into her face while she was coming up for air. 

He actually had the nerve to grin.

If he had expected her to give up now, he had miscalculated her. In the meantime Padme was completely involved in the game, and she, too, had some tricks up her sleeve - the long years of her training hadn't gone by without having effects on her.

Padme and Obi-Wan circled each other like two fighters, neither of them willing to give up, both more than sure of themselves. Padme's laughter rose into the starless night sky again when Obi-Wan lost his connection to the slippery ground of the basin during an overly careful attack and hit the surface of the water full length, inelegantly splashing a huge wave as he submerged.

When he resurfaced again, he found himself at her mercy. Her legs pressed his together, and while one of her hands tried to get a hold of his short-cropped hair, the other one was hidden in the water, ready for battle, ready to splash the final wave of water into his face.

"Do you give up, great knight?" she taunted with a laugh.

He feigned thinking about her proposal, but then burst the iron grip of her legs, tossed her slim body aside with great ease and then made a racing dive to stop her from retreating. Standing in front of her, he caught her hands behind her back and immobilised her legs exactly like she had held his just moments ago.

"Do you give up, your majesty?"

"Never!" she cried, laughing.

She tried to break free, causing Obi-Wan to lose his footing once again. But she was not going to get away from the Jedi *that* easily. One of his hands increased the solid grip on Padme's hands while the other one was slung around her waist to stop her continuous fidgeting.

"Your majesty is worse than a Dagobah-eel!" he scolded, amused.

For a few seconds she stopped fighting back and - stretching her arms in an attempt to level with his height - she lifted herself off the basin's floor. 

"Dagobah-eel, huh?" she asked breathlessly.

Not a single muscle in her arms twitched, even though the strain was hard. Only there and then she moved her feet to not lose her balance and fall against him. For the blink of an eye time simply stopped. She breathed deeply, letting her gaze travel unconsciously between his eyes and his lips.

Her chest rose and fell quickly when their faces inched closer. Obi-Wan drowned in the nearly angelic face in front of him, prettily flushed by their game. Unconsciously, his arms tightened around her, fitting her warm body perfectly against him.

Only a few breaths parted them, when Padme suddenly started to lose her balance. A small tremor of strain ran through her body, and where the fine material of her suit touched his bare torso, it transferred to Obi-Wan, who - surprised by the bodily vicinity he hadn't actually realised before - made the mistake of loosening his grip.

The Jedi should regret this deeply, because the next thing he felt were Padme's small, delicate hands dancing over his ribcage and the tender skin below it. Honestly worried, he asked himself if the strange sound he heard next had truly come from his mouth. 

"Did I find a weak spot there?" she asked innocently.

He looked at her, desperate pleading in his eyes. "Anything. Please, *anything* but not . . ."

"No rules!"

No matter how much he tried to keep her away, he didn't manage. He swallowed way too much water during those dodgings and his movements slowed noticeably.

Finally, when his body already twitched before she even came close to his skin, he gave up. "Mercy!" he panted, out of breath and raised both hands in a defensive gesture.

With an overly grim look on her face she came from the deeper water, stalking him like prey. The small part of his brain that wasn't drowned by all the water noticed the similarity to Sabé's movements.

__

‚The same teacher ...'

He would never finish the thought.

"This scared look on your face is definitely not appropriate for a Jedi", she stated dryly. "I cannot watch you suffer, though. I give you mercy."

The attempt to look royally dignified worked . . . for about one second. Then her legs had vanished from under her body once more.

"No rules, right?" With those words on his lips, Obi-Wan fled from the basin.

Sometimes retreat was honourable as well. And one look into Padme's flaming eyes confirmed that this was one of those moments.

***

The hall with the huge pillars was so quiet that she could hear her own breathing. She walked as silently as possible, and as she had done so many times before, she memorised every detail. One never knew when that could be useful. Not that it would have been necessary. Sabé knew the blueprints of the palace by heart, but it reassured her to have certain routines.

She walked up the broad flight of stairs with measured treads, slowly and endeavoured to look royal. She knew that the royal household would watch every single one of the queen's steps and even the smallest of mistakes would reveal that she wasn't the queen after all.

In the middle of the stairs she looked around intently and then sank onto one of the steps. Chin propped up in her hands, she gazed out of the gigantic windows into the night. From here a magnificent view revealed itself: over the illuminated procession street with her huge statues and the dome-shaped palace buildings with the curved arches and the lush green of the small gardens.

For a while she reminisced. The battle droids of the federation had desecrated this place and taken away a lot of its safety. When she closed her eyes, she could hear the metallic clicking of the droids in the stairs and halls of the palace again.

Shaking her head against the upcoming flood of pictures, Sabé rose and resumed her way, walking up more stairs, along long, cool, silent halls until she reached the throne room. For a moment she stood and hesitated, then she activated the control panel with a steady hand, causing the door to glide open without a sound.

She knew this room, could have described every single stone and every engraving of the high soaring pillars in her sleep. The throne was empty, and for the first time since Sabé knew what was awaiting her in the next days, she was frightened. Amidala placed so much trust in her . . . Was she, Sabé, worth it?

Carefully placing one foot in front of the other, she walked up to the throne and measured with the height of the room and its expansion, she felt infinitesimal.

Small rays of lamplight fell through the huge, upwardly rounded window and the night's shadows crept out of all the corners of the room.

Sabé walked one last step and reached the throne. It was strange, seeing it empty, even though it wasn't actually a peculiarity. It was only occupied during the audiences and outside of those times it was empty. But this time it was _different_. Amidala was not at the palace, and Sabé couldn't rely on an her affirmative nod, when she played the queen's role.

Unconsciously her hand skidded over the cool marble and the soft fabric of the throne. Amidala relied on her. Her smile in the temple had meant so much to Sabé, since she only saw it so very seldom. The throne-room slowly started losing its menacing aura. It was as if touching the place from which Amidalas quiet strength radiated from would transfer some of this calm and confidence to her.

She walked through the cool air of the high hall, musing, and stopped at one of the windows. She had watched Amidala at this very spot, as she did so very often, had been a silent witness of the queen watching the city below her, had seen her worried, but also amused.

She wondered how the queen was doing at this very moment. Casting a quick glance over the darkness which lay over the dome-shaped roofs of the city, Sabé realised just how late it actually was. The queen would most likely be asleep and not be wasting her time on thinking *anything* right now.

On her way from the window back to the door, she allowed her hand to skid over the marble table in front of the throne, then she hurried back to her quarters.

***

The dry garments felt good against her skin.

The way from the springs back to the part of the temple where they had made their quarters had been longer than she had thought and she was miserably cold. Padme didn't even dare think about how Obi-Wan, whose clothes had been completely soaked during their little battle, had to feel. He had assured her multiple times that he was fine, but somehow she couldn't make herself believe that.

It was still in the deep, dark hours of the night when Padme and Obi-Wan reached the temple-complex, shivering from the chills that ran through their bodies. Obi-Wan vanished in one of the smaller adjacent buildings and came back immediately, handing her a dry, warm garment. Gingerly but determined he pushed her into the Atrium and retreated to the terrace to give the young woman the chance to change clothes.

During the time they had spent here, the Atrium had become one of her favourite spots, since it combined two distinct advantages. It gave her enough privacy and allowed pastel-soft dreams of a world which was long lost.

Everything inside the column-framed building, light flooded by day, had something enchanted about it, seemed old and mysterious. Creepers with broad, lush green leaves had started to recapture this part of the temple and entered the air well in between the columns, crept slowly and steadily over the soft sandstone floor as if nothing could stop them. Thereagainst the basin in the middle of the Atrium remained untouched, it was as though the plants respected the azure coloured eye, which caught the indirect lights of the temple and cast it back at the surrounding stones in iridescent, flittering speckles.

Before her thoughts could succumb into another dream, Padme quickly changed her clothes. She enjoyed the sliding of the snuggly garment on her skin when she stepped out from between the plants' tendrils and joined Obi-Wan.

It surprised him how fast she followed him onto the Veranda, which was framed by high, slim columns. The soft light which came from the Atrium was reflected by the bright sandstone of the columns and faded away in the night darkened yard.

"What?" she asked, confused by the silence with which he was scrutinising her.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Nothing."

While she had taken off her wet garments and had changed into dry ones, he had taken up the task of lighting a pile of logs in the open fireplace of the Veranda. Tiny sparks sizzled. The licking flames exuded a pleasant warmth and a soft light. Obi-Wan stretched out his hands and absorbed the heat until an impatient plucking on his wet tunic startled him.

"Why is it that I always have to keep telling you that wet tunics aren't good for you?" Padme asked with a mixture of amusement and anger. "Is it your training or do you simply have a masochistic streak?"

For a moment confusion clouded his clear eyes, then he smirked. "Oh, that . . ."

"Oh, that?" she echoed, outraged.

Shaking her head, she pulled him to his feet and pushed him into the Atrium with earnestness.

"This really isn't . . ."

"Necessary?" she finished the sentence. "I'd like to differ. If you don't voluntarily put on dry clothes *immediately*, I will make that an order." 

Obi-Wan's eyes twinkled amused. "I thought you said you didn't want to be queen here?"

The smile on her face grew wistful. "I'm always queen, Obi-Wan. Just as much as you are always a Jedi."

Their eyes met, and for a few moments a cool hue of absoluteness and melancholy touched them.

Then she pointed the slim index finger of her left hand towards the door. "Now."

Obi-Wan knew that it was better not to disagree with her.

***

When he stepped onto the veranda again, Padme was gone.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and breathed in and out calmly for a few times. When had it become his fate to always be searching for her?

He could hear the jungle breathing around him, peacefully. The wind played in the tops of the high trees and moved the leaves, giving the impression of rain. Obi-Wan's ears detected more and more sounds, reaching from the most delicate whisper of bursting buds up to . . . the dampened sound of naked feet padding on the soft floor of the jungle.

He opened his eyes. The soft flicker of the flames revealed Padme to him, balancing up the narrow stairs with an arm full of small packages and a basket full of fruit. The light caused her dark hair to shimmer like rich silk.

She lowered her load onto a blanket that had previous been spread out and looked up expectantly.

"Good, you are dry," she exclaimed, satisfied.

He didn't answer but sank onto his knees to help her sort out the things she had placed on the blanket.

May I dare ask what this is supposed to be?"

Padme only raised her eyes, put her index finger over her lips and motioned for Obi-Wan to keep quiet. For a few moments nothing happened and Obi-Wan was tempted to ask what she meant, when he heard it. The sound would have brought honour to a Bantha, fuelled by anger. But there were no Banthas on . . . ‚_Oh_.'

A broad and honestly amused smile spread over his face and made him look years younger. He reached for one of the food packages Reaja had deposited in a small storage room for them, opened it with skilled hands and gave it to Padme.

"Feed the beast," he smirked.

While he watched her devour her late dinner, he had distinct difficulties in trying not to lose face and start to laugh. He couldn't remember when he had last seen someone eat this much in such a short period of time. He wondered if this was how his Master had felt when he had watched him, Obi-Wan, during dinners. Nevertheless Padme never lost her natural grace, no matter how fast she ate it still looked elegant and refined.

For a few moments longer he smiled at her, then his stomach started rumbling in protest as well and quickly joined her at her nightly dinner.

***

Sabé did not find any more sleep that night.

In the beginning she had hoped that studying the datapads would tire her, but she had given up *that* hope very soon. The information had not lost any of its impact on her and even repeated meditation attempts had failed calming her racing heart.

This was worse than the night before she had been appointed handmaiden. Back then she had been able to share her agitation, had been there for the other girls and had been able to distract herself. But here she was alone in the high room, which soaked up the sound of her breathing with ghastly speed. Just as if she weren't really here, as if the room felt that she didn't belong here . . .

The cool sheets of the royal bed were wrapped around her body and her contours were visible in the soft light of the restlessly flickering candle. Slowly her eyes trailed over her own curves and she asked herself how she appeared to the other handmaidens.

She had been the one elected to pose as queen. Was it only because of her features, because of her incredible resemblance to the queen?

Her hand slowly went into her long hair and she wound a strand around her finger.

When she looked into the mirror, she saw the resemblance, too. What she felt then, was frightening. She avoided looking into the mirror too often. Because everytime she did, she had the feeling that a part of her identity was being taken away from her and replaced by the strong image of the queen. Sometimes Sabé asked herself if this was normal. Was she losing her identity in her duty for the queen?

The soft strand of hair touched her face while she kept twirling it between middle and index finger.

On the other hand - this was what she had been trained to do, wasn't it? Then why couldn't she get rid of the gnawing feeling of envy which found its way into her heart from time to time?

With and indignant sigh Sabé threw back the smooth, silky sheets and moved her long, slim legs over the edge of the bed. Her delicate figure was clad in a soft white night gown whose skirt went well over her feet. One of the slim straps slithered off her tanned shoulder without her noticing it. Her naked feet produced soft sounds on the smooth marble.

The silence of the palace surrounding her was palpable and calming - like a sleeping giant, dreaming peacefully.

With a slight ache under her heart Sabé asked herself if Amidala knew what she encumbered her handmaiden with.

Immediately she scolded herself for that thought. She ought to be glad about the amount of trust Amidala placed in her. And she was, was incredibly proud and grateful for this proof of the queen's trust. Nevertheless she longed to be herself again once in a while.

Sabé shook her head and took the stance of one of her meditative exercises. She mustn't succumb to those thoughts if she didn't want to fail in the following days, and especially tomorrow.

If nothing else worked she could at least try and use the night for something more worthwhile than this useless brooding.

While her movements slowly became more fluent, she felt the disquieting thoughts returning to the well locked place in her soul.

This door had to remain closed from now on. Even the smallest gap, only a hairline crack could cause her failure.

It was a place of oblivion.

The thoughts were forgotten in order to fulfil her duty.

The thoughts were forgotten in order to save herself.

Truly forgotten?

***

The fire sizzled quietly as the flames licked at the dry logs. Fine clouds of smoke rose, mingled with the moist air and left behind the aromatic smell of burning wood. The night was cool and overcast, not a single star twinkled through the tight layers of clouds in the sky. The wind whispered in the treetops and deep tranquillity lay over the temple.

Obi-Wan's eyes moved away from his surroundings and wandered back to the fire.

It was a picture which would have looked nearly sirupy sweet had it been a painting. Here it simply was the perfection of the mood. The warm light of the fire danced on Padme's long, dark hair which poured over her shoulders and the propped up arm like an ebony waterfall. She had laid down close to the fire to allow her heavy hair to dry better. The light enchanted her face, made if softer and more feminine. Her long, dark lashes cast mysterious shadows on the fair, velvet-like skin of her cheeks.

When she opened her eyes again and shook up the heavy curls, her gaze met his and something passed between them as though it were a small, undefinable spark. Lazily and agile as a cat she sat up and reached for the hairbrush, playing seemingly subconsciously with the silvery object. Her eyes looked at him steadfastly. Thoughtful, warm, shining. She smiled unfathomably. 

The fire sizzled. The hairbrush produced quiet, clicking noises whenever it connected with the ornaments of her tunic-belt. No words were spoken, only her smile remained.

For a while he managed to ignore that gaze. He thought of it as training - patience had never been his strong suit, so he might as well train it now. Yet it was harder for him than any one of his exercises in a long line of trials of patience.

The quiet clicking of the brush became deafeningly loud in his ears. The longer this look rested upon him, accompanied by that unreadable smile, the more a warm glowing coloured his cheeks. Her gaze travelled with deliberate slowness over his face, then to his shoulders and back to his eyes. He couldn't help noticing the amused twinkling in that gaze.

"What, **_WHAT_**?!" he finally blurted out.

__

‚Great, Obi-Wan. Your patience really *is* remarkable,' he thought sarcastically.

A quick, satisfied smile flickered over Padme's face and she lowered her head to look at the twinkling brush in her hands."Nothing," she answered.

She winked at him though the circle of her lashes and allowed her eyes to wander deliberately over his features.

Obi-Wan sat up abruptly and shook his head in confusion."You are staring," he stated, and realised with horror that his voice didn't obey him quite the way it usually did.

"I am?"

The amused undertone of her voice was lost on him.

"Yes, you are!" he reaffirmed. 

Again the few words sounded indignant and in a very pleasant way profoundly shocked. And just as if his body wanted to intensify his unpleasant situation, his voice broke and ended in a very undignified squeak. His face glowed dark red and he cleared his throat uneasily. This was unbelievable. He was acting worse than during the time at the Temple when his voice had been breaking. The urgent need to run into the temple and pull the covers over his head because of the awkwardness of the situation awoke inside of him.

"I'm sorry," Padme said, troubled by his reaction towards her joke. "I didn't intend to . . ."

Since the situation was awkward anyway, he might as well jump into the depth. "You were staring," he repeated. "Why?"

Her fingertips moved over the soft bristles. She raised the sparkling eyes again. "I was thinking . . ."

The tone of her voice did not make clear whether she would continue or not. Just why was he expecting a confession he would most probably not be able to handle?

"About what?" he asked, alarmed.

Padme pointed the brush in the direction of his hair. "Your haircut."

The sentence was like a splash of icy cold water on Obi-Wan's racing thoughts and brought him back into reality.

She smiled about the confusion she saw on his face. "Not actually fashionable, but undoubtedly very handy." Her gaze travelled back to the brush in her hands. "At least you don't have to brush it all the time."

For a few moments Obi-Wan considered if she had just insulted him with well-placed words. He cast her a levelling glance and saw the hopeful glitter in her eyes for the first time . The hope which had been hidden behind her smile before. Slowly, very slowly things started to fall into place and he felt his relief painting a broad smile on his features.He laughed softly when he took the small silvery brush out of her hands.

"Is it at all possible that you're very subtly trying to make me . . ." He was stopped by a playful swat to his shoulder.

"Subtly?" she asked in mock consternation. "I'm trying to make you understand for a small eternity now. I was about to give up hope."

Over her shoulder, she gave him a mischievous smile, while he sank to his knees behind her.

"For someone as intelligent and well trained as you are, you're surprisingly naive sometimes, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

***

TBC


	15. XV

Circle of healing_15 __

You are just incredible, you know that, don't you?

If you keep feedbacking like that, I'm gonna end up in tears of joy. :o)

Awwwwww! C'mere and receive a hug!!!!

Oh, and - I'm sorry, the next chapter'll be a while, because it's not even finished in the OV. :o)

But fear not - I've got it all worked out in my head. :o)

(Oh - and Mollie? Could you e-mail me privately?)

___________________________________________________________________________

****

XV.

**__**

Look with amazement 

**__**

Soon you will find 

**__**

That the past is still real, 

**__**

and it's all in your mind 

**__**

(Steve McDonald) 

***

The fire began to die down and the last, incandescent log sank into the heat with a sigh, causing crackling sparks to rise and go out like tiny falling stars in the cool night air.

Padme exhaled deeply and leaned back - into the solid body behind her, into the gentle hands patiently brushing her hair. Could she admit how much she enjoyed this closeness, this simple, warm closeness? Wouldn't it cross the invisible line they had both drawn?

She sighed softly.

"Did I hurt you?" His worried voice was so close to her ear that she tensed fiercely when his cool breath moved her hair.

"No." She laughed insecurely and hugged one upraised knee to her chest. "No, not at all."

His hand hovered over her head for a split second, timidly, then it lowered and continued the soothing strokes. While his left hand slid the brush carefully through the heavy, silky-soft strands of hair, his right trailed behind the silvery object - a movement somewhere between a functional gesture and a lingering caress.

"I miss Sabé." The words burst out of her as though they had been long prepared.

"So I *_am_* hurting you?"

His hands let go of the silky strands and fell into his lap.

Padme smiled at the downcast tone of his voice and turned around to face him. "No, you are not," she reassured him. "Brushing my hair is not Sabés task. It's just . . ."

Obi-Wan mutely raised an eyebrow.

Padme's eyes wandered over the temple buildings, only barely visible in the velvety darkness. "Sometimes I wished it was."

"Why?"

A slight blush flew over her face and she bent her head a little, causing the dark curtain of her hair to hide her features.

"It's . . . You will laugh."

"Oh yes," Obi-Wan agreed dryly. "Since I'm known for my outbursts of laughter as of late, I'm sure I am going to laugh."

"You are impossible."

"So I am told."

His features grew softer and he carefully lifted her chin with his crooked index finger.

"Why do you want that to be Sabé's task?"

The long lashes hid the dark brown of her eyes nearly completely.

"It . . . would make me feel closer to her."

Now that the words were spoken, Padme felt relieved. She had never talked about this with anyone, and articulating this feeling hadn't been easy for her. Now she felt the urge even stronger to explain this sentiment.

"I'm sure it sounds irrational and not at all royal if I say this now, but . . . Sabé is closer to me than any other person in the palace. Yet she is always reserved and professional. There are only a few moments when I see the young woman behind the servant. But . . .," her gaze dropped to the silvery brush in his hands, "I wish we were closer. Doesn't that sound unbearably sappy?"

Her voice was filled with a cynicism her expressive eyes belied.

"No."

Obi-Wan reached for the brush again and turned Padme around carefully until she was sitting with her back to him. With calm and steady movements he continued brushing her hair.

"I think that allowing yourself to feel that way is a strength, not a weakness."

A smile flickered over her features. She relaxed, leaned back and allowed her eyes to flutter closed - enjoying once again the natural proximity to him.

Padme's head sank to her chest more and more often as fatigue overpowered her. A few times, she tried to fight her way back into reality, but the gentle brushing made it impossible to concentrate. After a while she gave up struggling and allowed sleep to take her into his warm embrace.

Obi-Wan concentrated solely on giving her as much as possible of that closeness that she had long yearned for.

He hadn't known how lonely the queen was. And if he was honest with himself, he had never actually thought about it before. But this small confession that had come over her lips so very reluctantly had revealed more to him than she suspected.

She didn't want this loneliness. But she couldn't talk about it with anyone in the palace. There she was the strong sovereign ruler who always showed a calm facade and reigned with a cool reserve.

But not here. Here she was who she wanted to be. Here she found the strength to admit what was missing in her life.

Gingerly, as to not disturb her light sleep, Obi-Wan breathed in the scent of her hair deeply and leaned his cheek timidly to her sleeping face, half hidden by the mass of dark hair. He enjoyed the warmth her body, so close to his, exuded.

What he felt was so unreal, so far away from everything he had ever known. So crazy.

Still. The featherweight on his shoulder, this delicate, fragile being, seemingly arisen from a dream and yet stronger than he could ever hope to become - all of this was real and Obi-Wan knew that he did not want to miss this feeling of her unobtrusive strength and support, her *_closeness*_. She had become his anchor.

When he was completely certain that she was sound asleep, he picked up her slim body and carried her to bed.

Obi-Wan tucked her in and slid a strand of the silky hair through his fingers one last time. 

Pulling his hand away from the shiny hair and the warmth of her skin proved to be infinitely more difficult than he had imagined.

__

*His anchor.*

He smiled warmly and went to sleep himself.

***

The wailing sound of the alarm-bell woke Naara abruptly from her dreams. For a while she lay confused with open eyes in the darkness of the room and tried to place the sound.

But before she could call back her thoughts from the warm arms of dreams, somebody knocked at her door in earnest.

"Naara!" The voice of her fellow novice Kezia sounded loud and anxious through the heavy door. "Naara, are you awake?"

The fragile novice crawled from under the comforters and tapped barefoot over the cool floor. Bleary-eyed, she opened the door a crack.

A small ray of yellow light filtered into the darkness of her room.

"What is it?"

She looked at the older girl in confusion and tried in vain to tame her unruly curls.

"Didn't you hear anything at all?" Kezia pointed behind her. "The alarm-bell has been ringing for a few minutes now!"

The shrill sound still echoed hollowly in the long hall.

"Isn't it a little late for a training-alarm?" Naara mumbled and rubbed at her eyes.

Kezia's blank face showed her that this was obviously anything *but* a training alarm, and fatigue fell from Naara like a fine veil.

The tall girl with the shoulder-length dark hair radiated uneasiness, and her expressive green eyes, which were a strange contrast to her bright blue robe, left Naara's face again and again to look into the hall behind her. Her broad, dark eyebrows furrowed impatiently each time. There was a strained expression in her overly pale lips. 

Naara scrutinised Kezia, searching for further signs, until understanding began to dawn. 

Since she had become a novice in the temple, she had heard the bell ringing only once - after the invasion of the Federation. 

Hundreds of injured people had been brought to the temple and the priestesses had worked to the point of total exhaustion.

Now the bell was ringing again. What was the meaning of that? How could she possibly have forgotten about that terrifying sound?

Naara's bright blue eyes fastened insecurely and nearly pleadingly on the older novice in front of her. "What are we going to do now?"

With a painful suddenness she remembered the punishment of the high priestess. 

Were they going to make her stay in her chamber while there was actual work to do out there? Real work - not just training?

"I . . . I'm not allowed . . ."

Kezia seized the younger girl's arm and directed her back into her chamber.

"Get dressed," she said with a hectic side-glance to the other Novices who scurried out of their chambers. "We're going to need every single hand tonight." 

***

__

"Well, how do you feel now?"

__

The voice, laced with acidic taunting, made Obi-Wan's blood freeze in his veins. He felt strangely heavy, motionless, and completely at the mercy of the changing lights and shadows of the reactor room. The red force-field, which had been inactive up to now, flickered to life with a low hum.

__

"Better, right?"

__

He didn't know the voice, had never heard it before, but instinctively he knew whom it belonged to. His hands clawed into Qui-Gon's tunic.

__

He also knew that it was impossible that this voice should ever speak again. Obi-Wan felt the foreign presence reaching inside him, reaching for a place *behind*_ the pain that covered everything and made everything else unimportant._

__

Living, dying - what difference did it make? His life had ended. It had died along with the man whose lifeless body he had bedded in his lap, whose blood soaked his clothes - warm yet lifeless. 

__

Nevertheless this voice touched something inside of him, something strange and dangerous. 

Arduously he removed his hands from the rough material of Qui-Gon's tunic and allowed his master to slip to the floor. Each movement that separated him from Qui-Gon ripped more out of his heart, yet he rose - eyes closed and knees shaking. 

A part of himself had just died here and the soft presence of Qui-Gon's quiet, unobtrusively strong and supportive mind had been replaced by an emptiness that was endless and made him feel the loss as if someone had burned a vital organ out of his body. 

The emptiness threatened to pull him into the depths of the maddening pain. 

__

The other, foreign presence found this emptiness and fed off it, becoming stronger. Obi-Wan almost thought he heard a satisfied laugh. 

__

"Stop whining, little Jedi. I kept thinking you were all so damn stoic." 

__

The laughter was there now - distinct and cruel. Heavy boots produced clicking noises on the reflecting floor. 

__

"You can't even manage to look reality in the eye? The old man must have been a great teacher." 

__

The biting taunt in those words seduced Obi-Wan to open his eyes and stare at his opponent hatefully. 

__

"Aha." The Sith grinned and exposed a line of decaying teeth. "A reaction." 

__

Obi-Wan nearly wished he hadn't opened his eyes. That wasn't possible. 

Through his burning hatred he tried to analyse the situation calmly. 

That was it. 

His brain must have suffered some kind of trauma from the sudden severing of the bond to Qui-Gon and now it compensated this loss with hallucinations. 

__

"This is pathetic, little Jedi." The Sith's yellow eyes glowed contemptuously. "We were so close already." 

*Close. Close?!*

__

Obi-Wan's thoughts desperately raced around those words. Why was he so helpless? 

__

"Are you going to deny that you enjoyed it?" 

__

The Sith came closer, cornered him like a beast of prey would. The dark aura around the man was palpable, taking away the air that Obi-Wan needed to breathe. 

__

Without him commanding it directly, Qui-Gon's light sabre, which the younger Jedi had dropped earlier, almost disgusted, began to jerk slightly. 

*"Enjoyed??"*

__

It was the first word he had spoken since Qui-Gon had closed his eyes forever. His vocal cords were still rough and overtaxed from the inhuman scream he had given. 

He was a little surprised that he could speak at all. 

__

Why did the world keep turning? 

__

The Sith grinned again. "Just forget the old man for a few moments and focus on the important things in life." 

__

He kicked contemptuously at the light-sabre that came rushing at him over the smooth floor. Nevertheless something like interest flickered in those yellow eyes. 

__

"Play with your little Jedi-friends, not with me. Oh, but . . ." The tattooed man stopped and covered his mouth with a mockingly coy gesture. "They're not going to want to play with you any longer. You violated their rules. You have disgraced yourself, you've been seduced. You have been touched and have tasted the forbidden fruit . . ." 

__

Even though Obi-Wan hadn't been able to move before - all his power returned upon hearing those words. Within a split second the light sabre was activated in his hands and he launched an attack at the Sith. 

But the Sith parried his blows with the red sword as though he hadn't been expecting anything else. 

__

Loud electrostatic humming filled the room and sparks flew around them like falling stars. 

*"What do you want from me?"*

__

Obi-Wan realised that he was screaming both verbally and mentally, but he didn't care. 

Empty and eaten by such excruciating pain that he thought he would break under the sheer magnitude of it, he couldn't find a hold on his training. It cost him every ounce of his rapidly fading power to raise his shields once again and block out the Sith and all his poisoned words. 

__

Again the tattooed man laughed and this time there was something akin to satisfaction in it. 

__

"Good." 

__

He struck at Obi-Wan's sabre with a nearly insulting ease. 

__

"What I want?" 

__

Their swords crossed in front of their faces, sparkling and sizzling. The glowing eyes of the Sith pierced deeply into the ever-changing green-blue of Obi-Wan's eyes. 

__

"I want to welcome my new brother. My master will be very pleased." 

__

Disgusted, Obi-Wan called for the force and pushed the black-clad man away from him without touching him. Only slowly did the words that the Sith had just spoken seep into his mind. 

*No, no, **NO**!'*

__

Obi-Wan's knees buckled under the power of those words. 

__

"That is not true," he whispered hoarsely to himself. "I haven't left the path of light. Haven't left it . . ." 

__

The Sith laughed out loud, as if the Jedi had just made a very good joke. He deactivated the blood-red light-sabre and sank to his knees next to Obi-Wan, touching the young man's shoulders all too familiarly. 

__

"Do you really think that you could have conquered me from your path of light, little Jedi?" The yellow eyes pierced Obi-Wan's soul. "Are you really that naive?" 

__

In a flash of horrible clarity Obi-Wan saw the moment of his victory . . . 

__

. . . saw himself, saw his wild, vindictive eyes, the uncompromising attitude and the perfidious craving to kill. The dark side of the force swirled and closed around him for a few blinks of an eye. He had enjoyed what he had seen, had enjoyed the sudden rush of pure power that had pulsed through him . . . 

__

Groaning, he hid his face in his hands. 

__

"No. I haven't turned. I haven't . . ." 

__

"I thought Jedi weren't allowed to lie," the Sith interrupted him sarcastically. 

__

Obi-Wan didn't look up. He heard the black clothes of the Sith rustling as the man rose. For a few moments the dark aura was gone, then Obi-Wan felt hot breath on his neck. 

__

"Face the facts. You enjoyed it. You're walking in blood, it already reaches your knees, little Jedi. You just don't know it yet." 

__

When the Sith pressed his hot lips to the base of Obi-Wan's Padawan braid, breathing lasciviously down his neck, the young Jedi's world shattered.

__

He shrank away from the pure evil in the creature, thrashing and fighting. "NO!" His scream could not be be called human anymore. "I haven't turned! I haven't turned!" 

He couldn't say how many time he had screamed those words until a worried Padme Naberrie woke him. 

***

TBC


	16. XVI

Circle of healing_16 __

No, I didn't disappear. In fact - I'm resurfacing from the depths of finals. :o)

Please enjoy - if you still can after all that waiting. *cringe*

****

_____________________________________________________________________

__

XVI.

***

__

I play dead.

It stops the hurting.

(Björk)

***

Pale morning light filtered infinitely languidly through the open window of the temple. It feebly found its way in, only inadequately lighting the dark corner of the room in which the young man was sitting with upraised knees, eyes squeezed tightly shut, not showing any reaction except for a soft shiver now and again. 

His desperate screams had woken Padme abruptly in this white hour - somewhere in between deep night and the break of dawn. The insecurity of the last time she had found him in a nightmare had been gone with the wind - she had shaken him awake resolutely.

The scent of the flowers in the temple's garden wafted into the room heavily, nearly sickly sweet, increasing the unreality even more.

Once again a vast hopelessness rose inside of her. What was she to do? What had he dreamt which had left him so devastated? She carefully inched closer to him and gingerly touched one of the hands cradling his knees to his chest.

Obi-Wan shrank back as though the touch had been white hot and squeezed his eyes shut even more, his face contorting to a mask of boundless panic.

Not any less shaken, Padme recoiled a bit and watched the changes in his features, saw how he fought futilely for control.

"Talk to me." Her voice was urgent.

The young Jedi didn't open his eyes but shook his head. "No," he whispered hoarsely.

"You can't bury everything in you, Obi-Wan," she admonished him gently. "Someday you will have to face your demons."

A bitter laugh rose in his throat and weakly reached her ear. 

"Demons," he whispered. "What a clever choice of words."

Slowly, nearly arduously his head rose from his knees and he opened his eyes.

Padme was hard pressed not to recoil any further.

Darkness swam in his now icy-blue eyes -- palpable, frightening darkness which was far too close to the surface, which wove dark veils into the cool blue and caused the temperature in the room to drop noticeably. 

Padme shivered and unconsciously pulled the dark red shawl closer around her shoulders. This gaze scared her. Nevertheless - giving up was not an option for her.

"Talk to me," she repeated.

His hands unclenched and he shot to his feet. "And after that? What then?"

The bitterness in his voice didn't quite manage to mask the hopelessness hidden behind those words. 

"It's no use. He was right . . ." His voice broke and he pushed himself away from the wall where he had just been leaning, and walked towards the door. 

"Who was right?"

Obi-Wan straightened his shoulders and consciously erected a cool wall of inaccessibility around himself. "Don't think about it any longer. Please forget what I just said. It was irrelevant."

He spoke those last words over his shoulder and pushed the door open to step into the cool, scented morning air.

Anger welled up in Padme when she watched his back, turned at her. Was he pushing her away *_again_*?

"Don't you dare." Her voice was low and dangerously quiet.

Obi-Wan halted but made no attempt to turn around.

She noticed that he had started shivering ever so slightly. She circled him once, rewarded him with a piercing gaze without saying a word. Finally she stopped right in front of him and seized his chin in a surprisingly strong hand.

"Don't you dare give up now."

Dejection flickered in his eyes. "It's too la . . ."

"No!" she interrupted him fiercely. "It's never too late. You can fight it. Do you want to betray everything you've ever sworn to obey? Do you want to give up?"

A visible shiver ran over Obi-Wan and he reached for the delicate railing of the terrace to steady himself. The wounds were too raw, the pain of the revelation in the dream too scorching. Why couldn't she understand?

When he had found enough of his rapidly fading strength, he turned towards Padme. His gaze was dejected - he had started to surrender.

"I'm tired, Padme."

A quiet confession.

"Forgive me." He carefully eased her hand away from his chin and brushed it softly with his lips. "Please don't ask any more questions."

***

They reached the scene of the accident when the first bright rays of sunlight filtered through thick drifts of smoke and illuminated the frightening scenery.

Broken durasteel and smoking pieces of debris lay scattered on a seemingly endlessly vast square which had not existed like this before. The last supporting struts of the buildings stretched their lacerated arms menacingly into the cool morning air and the cheerful blue sky like gruesome skeletons -- a frightening contrast to the peace of the adjacent gardens. A broad piece of the demarcation of the slopes leading down to the ravines of the rivers surrounding Theed had been blasted away and the new sharply edged ravine which had come into being gaped like a huge, dark wound in the bright sandstone of the tiled paths.

Reaja's hands clenched up. She had been told that there had been a massive explosion, but she hadn't expected this extent.

A quick look at the group of novices who had been put under her charge showed their horror. Reaja understood those feelings, felt the hopelessness and the disgust radiating from the girls but she couldn't afford losing the novices to their own fears right now.

With gentle determination she directed the group out of the transporter and went up to take the lead. Around her she saw the robes of the priestesses already on location, twinkling ghostly through the thick clouds of smoke in their clear blue.

The closer the small group came to the centre of the explosion, the more wounded they saw. 

Military task forces were everywhere; swarming around walls which could collapse at any moment, digging for people buried alive, carrying the injured to the hastily erected hospital in the middle of the scattered debris. Transporters rose in intervals which were getting quicker by the minute to bring the severely injured to the temple.

Too many of the bodies were hidden under white cloths already.

__

‚As if the federation didn't do enough damage when they invaded and occupied Naboo,' the priestess thought cynically.

The inhabitants of her homeworld had been brought into camps and had been starved, constantly under the threat of being attacked by the droids.

Now - nearly three weeks after the ending of the blockade and the freeing of Naboo - the Naboo still struggled with the after-effects of the occupation.

There had been too many of the droids, which had become useless after the destruction of the control ship in orbit, for the small Naboo transport pods to take them off-planet. The republic had promised to help, but they had omitted providing immediate help.

In many places traces of the fights which had taken place could still be spotted, and no matter how much the population of Naboo tried to cure and forget the wounds the occupation had struck, small accidents with the droids still there were part of daily life.

Playing children, unintentionally triggering one of the seemingly harmless weapons. 

Malfunctions. Explosions. Hidden mines.

One of these hidden mines had exploded in one of the most tightly populated squares in Theed and had turned the night, retreating so peacefully, into a morning of horror.

Reaja pushed back her deafening anger about the senselessness of the catastrophe and pivoted to reach her assigned place of action.

The gazes of the novices scurried back and forth between the injured, horror mingled with the expectation to help, with the *_need*_ to help. Not needing any further assignments, the girls poured into the cluster of injured and quickly and adroitly started the essential work.

In the middle of the approximately fifteen older girl Reaja suddenly spotted a younger, more familiar face - full of freckles and with frightened, insecure, bright blue eyes.

The priestess felt a sting of sadness. This shouldn't have been Naara's first assignment. The fragile, sensitive novice would have been better off helping with the outbreak of a common children's illness. Her training hadn't reached the level to . . .

With quick steps she walked towards the intimidated girl and placed a calming hand on her slim shoulder.

"No one is expecting you to perform a miracle, Naara," she said softly. She clearly felt the fear of failure, radiating noticeably off the novice. "Use the abilities you already have and stay close to me. Watch me and help me."

Relief painted the elf-like features of the girl and she followed the priestess who made her way through the confused and injured inhabitants of the city.

This was a difficult situation. Reaja knew that they were going to lose a lot of the young novices after this day, simply because they couldn't cope with the incredible burden of this terrible event.

Notwithstanding this, the healer priestess Reaja was determined not to lose *this* one novice. No matter how horrifying the work which lay ahead of them might be - Reaja would see to it that Naara came out of this experience stronger than she believed to be possible right now.

***

Darkness. Obscurity and gloom wherever he looked. Every shadow promised evil, menace, even here in the bright sunlight. What was dream, what was reality? He couldn't tell. Had forgotten. Would the memory ever return?

__

*Don't sleep.*

He couldn't fall asleep just to go through this dream again. He wouldn't be able to stand the hoarse, boundlessly deep voice of the Sith one more time. Wouldn't be able to stand watching the scenes in between those forcefields once again.

For a few wild moments in which he hadn't known whether he was awake or dreamt, he had hoped to be allowed to die with a desperate fervency. He would rather have died than have to witness what was standing before him in all its horrible glory -- his own fall. His soul, slipping to the dark side, betraying everything Qui-Gon had taught him.

Fear gnawed at him.

Could shame and fear kill? Were they strong enough to achieve that task? But weren't the same emotions the path to the dark side? 

Emotions . . . It would be so much easier if he could just ignore them. They had been standing in his way all his life . . .

His meditation posture didn't change, he didn't feel his body, protesting against his motionlessness anymore, felt nothing but the unreal fear that - despite what had happened, despite the fact that he had been granted his knighthood - the dark side already had stretched its greedy hand out for him. He was afraid that he had reached for it in a moment of weakness - or was going to reach for it. 

Afraid that acknowledging feelings - no matter of what kind - would finally cause his fall.

***

"We don't have the time for such petty things!"

Sabé restlessly paced the room, her face already painted white, while a handmaiden frantically sought to find the one dress appropriate for this special event among hundreds of elaborate dresses.

"A simple garment is more than sufficient. I know how Amidala would have decided!"

Impatiently she reached for the bulk of dresses and withdrew a high-necked, slim cut dress, moderately adorned with tucks, imitating the mossy green of the forests surrounding Theed and hiding her hands under semi transparent lace up to her knuckles.

"This one," she decided with a strong voice and got to the task of dressing herself.

Shaking her head, the handmaiden hurried over to the decoy queen and helped her close the complicated fastenings.

"You have to prepare yourself, Sabé," she reminded her gently. "There is a very real danger that this charade is uncovered if you don't have yourself in check. Talk to Eirtae before you leave."

Sabé pivoted and rewarded the other handmaiden with a cool gaze which caused the younger woman to recoil unconsciously.

"Are you suggesting that I stay here and wait until everything is set to perfection, while my people are out there, asking for their queen?" She paused for a split second when she realised that she had just spoken about *_her_* people.

But Rabé didn't seem to have noticed this slip, or she was trained too well to show it. So Sabé confined herself to opening the casket with the jewellery fitting to the dress and hoped that the jerky movement didn't seem to much like a diversionary tactic.

"Are you suggesting that I should rather look perfect than to help the people out there? This is no normal situation, Rabé. It calls for a quick action - and *_no_* delays."

The young woman turned her head away from the decoy ruler at the sharp rebuke, trying to hide her fiercely flushing face. Her dark hair slid shiny over the cowl of her scarlet cloak.

Sabé's words were filled with a passion and a sense of duty she had only heard from the queen herself before. Immediately Rabé regretted her careless comment. The other handmaiden was under much more pressure than she could ever imagine. It was not her, Rabé's, place to question the professionalism of the queen's representative.

"Forgive me."

Sabé's eyes rose from the casket for a moment and the hint of a smile flickered across her features. "We are all under a lot of pressure. Trust me, I would be the very last one who wouldn't understand that." 

With slim fingers she singled out a tiara, adorned with emerald coloured gems, and donned it on a trial basis. Her eyes never left the younger handmaiden. "The fact that I understand it does not mean that I tolerate it." She realised that her tone had become sharper than she had intended. "We cannot afford making mistakes now, Rabé," she softened her previous words. "But wasting any more time on protocol questions would be a big mistake."

For a moment the younger handmaiden stood embarrassed in front of the slim, dark-haired woman who applied the dark red highlights on the white make-up with practised hands.

Sabé sensed the sudden unease of the younger woman and smiled broadly over the tip of one of the kohl pencils. "I'm not making this easy for you, am I?"

Rabé looked at Sabé for a few seconds, wondering if the immediate danger of putting her foot in it any deeper was over.

The she took the sparkling tiara out of Sabé's hands and resolutely put it on the dressing table, lined by dark marble. "At least let me bring your hair into a decent form!" She threw both of her hands into the air in a gesture of mock surrender. "I'm not asking for anything more."

***

She had seen him. During the night before Qui-Gon's cremation she had stood at the window of her room, looking down at him - a perfectly motionless figure in the bright moonlight which was casting sharp shadows on his care-worn face. 

She had wondered how he could take it - standing there for so long, close to the open temple building in which Qui-Gon's lifeless body was waiting for his last journey. Standing there and not moving a single muscle during his vigil, perfect and motionless, like the statue of a man who had experienced too much pain to ever be able to cope with. A man who had already paid for all his future sins through this grief. The earth-shattering pain he exuded had muted the surrounding gardens and the happy songs of the freed Naboo.

When she looked at him now, she saw this picture again, standing sharply in front of her inner eye. While she, after she had presented her greetings to the new day in the main building of the temple, had sunk back to a comfortable position to watch him, he was still sitting in exactly the same posture, at exactly the same spot where he had settled hours ago. Painfully, she registered that her foot had fallen asleep and she untangled her legs overly careful from the lotus position, to reactivate the blood-flow. How could he possibly take this? An unbearable feeling of needles and pins of her coursed up her leg which had been motionless for so long and she grimaced. Padme didn't dare imagine what cramps Obi-Wan would encounter once he woke up from his rigidity. Was he even aware of his surroundings anymore?

It was not the first time she asked herself where he was right now. 

Was he re-living the dream again? The dream which had tortured him so much that his mental screams had reached her before his verbal ones? The intense pain and the incredulity had left a soot-blackened trail inside of her - along all the places his emotions had surged through. They had involuntarily set her soul on fire, had caused so much pain that she had had no choice but to free him from the clutches of the nightmare. For his sake just as much as for hers.

But what now? Was he ever going to explain to her what had happened? How long would she have to wait to get an answer to those questions?

The picture of the Jedi in the middle of the friendly rays of the early morning sunlight held something unreal. He had chosen a place for his meditation where the sun would be shining all day long - always bathed in light, not a single shadow would touch the soft forest ground where Kenobi kneeled. She ruminated about the question whether he had chosen this spot on purpose.

Was he afraid of the dark?

***

TBC

__________________________________________________________

Author's note: Thank you all for being so patient. I hope to get more written soon, but finals were getting in the way during the last weeks. *sheepish grin*

However - my beta-reader will be on a three week holiday - so go figure how long it's going to take.

But maybe _this'll_ help you (or maybe not): You're getting the chapters only about 4 days after it has been out in the OV.

Can I get a hug now? Just working for you lads and lassies! :o)

eretria


	17. XVII

My original beta-reader has looked over it already, so you can spare yourself some of the trouble

I need to say a few things about this chapter. All of the scenes in here were written around September 5th, some even earlier. Reading them now, they still scare the crap out of me (thinking premonitions and everything, even though that may just be really, really stupid), but I decided not to change them. You'll see why. Maybe this'll become my way of dealing with everything. 

That said - I'd be interested in hearing from you. What do you think about the storyline the way it is now? 

__

eretria

***

__

XVII.

And I feel safe,

So safe.

So safe.

(Fran Healy)

***

Bright daylight filtered through the dense coppice and flitted over the forest soil. The heavy smell of the damp earth clung to the air and made breathing difficult.

But Padme's eyes weren't captured by the play of the light on the soil, but by the young man who sat on the stairs of the temple - his clasped hands on his head, which was resting on his upraised knees.

She couldn't believe what she saw there. So much had been achieved during the last days. He had laughed again, had made progress in such short a time that she never would have believed to be possible, and now a single nightmare seemed to have destroyed everything. The worst thing by far was the fact that he had started shutting her out again and completely ignored her gentle attempts to talk to him.

For two days she had watched him try to meditate, train, breathe, and think clearly, but to no avail. It was just as though his thoughts were running in endless circles about what the dream had revealed to him. And her patience was exhausting itself rapidly. In the beginning she had thought that it would be good to grant him some quiet, some time to sort his thoughts, but the stoicism and the stubbornness he displayed tortured not only him, but even more so her. They hadn't been sent here to make everything worse.

A painful pang in her heart showed her just how close they were to that exact stage as her eyes roamed over the food which had remained untouched and grown cold. Hours ago she had asked him to join her. Nothing. No reaction.

But could she step up to him again and challenge him to speak? It seemed to her that this was the only thing she'd been doing ever since she'd met him.

She talked. He kept quiet. She walked towards him, offered him her hand; he turned away from her and pushed aside the helping hand with a perfunctory apology. 

Padme was so sick of making the first step. Yet she knew that was exactly what she had to do if she ever wanted to find peace of mind. The revelation only fuelled her ferociousness more.

No matter how much she was used to dealing with difficult problems due to her position as queen, those problems had never been private. No one bothered a queen with personal problems. But Kenobi . . . had been a special case right from the beginning. Never before had she felt the dire need to help so intensively, no matter how impossible and out of her sphere of influence it seemed. Was it selfish now, when her patience was rapidly reaching its end?

Pro and con fought a hard battle inside of her, and her fingers thrummed restlessly against each other they way they always did when her thoughts were troubled. For a while she stared into the Lotus-basin where the water was gurgling with an almost enerveratingly cheerful sound, mocking her dark thoughts **-** and then her decision was made.

Noiselessly and with squared shoulders she pushed herself away from the filigree railing of the terrace and guided her steps in Obi-Wan's direction; calm, determined and fluid.

"So?" Padme was a little taken aback when she heard how cool her own voice sounded.

His clasped hands wandered over the short, slightly reddish hair to his neck when he raised his head - only just high enough to look up but not look into her eyes. 

"So what?" His voice was slightly hoarse with disuse.

"Your silence and your self-destructive excesses aren't enough, are they? Are you refusing to eat as well?"

Why was she doing this? Her words hurt her just as much as they hurt him. Nevertheless they had to be spoken in order to make their situation normal again. They had to talk to each other. It didn't matter how this conversation was started.

"I'm not hungry."

"That's what you've been telling me for days now," she replied. "You're lying."

His head snapped up at this indictment and their gazes met. For a split second Padme believed to see some deeper emotion in those eyes of his - but this ghost of a feeling vanished before she could be sure.

"What now?" she asked coolly. "Will you give me that long suffering look again and try to tell me to not meddle and go away?" She took a deep breath and pointed at the jungle surrounding them. "Then maybe you would care to tell me where. How far away from you is far enough? Away from the temple? Away from the clearing? From this *planet*?" 

Her voice grew louder but she didn't care any longer. Even the distraught flickering look in his green-blue eyes bounced off her. "What is it that makes me so repulsive to you? Why is it so damn hard for you to show a little . . ."

She stopped. She hadn't meant to voice that. Not yet. 

"There is nothing that could possibly make you repulsive to me." His voice barely rose above the brightly gurgling water. "I am sorry."

Padme kneeled beside him abruptly, thus forcing him to lower his gaze and follow her movement.

"Are you? Truly?"

A full, dark strand of hair came loose and the curly lock fell into her face, over her brown eyes. Obi-Wan remained silent in the contemplation of her countenance, so close to his own.

She held his gaze as long as she could and then shook her head, agitated.

"I don't understand you. For one moment, I thought I'd pried open your hard shell and found a way to you, but then you change and I have to start all over again. I just don't know what else there is for me to do to earn your trust." Impulsively she framed his face with both of her hands, as though this gesture could tell her what was going on inside of him. "What else?"

Obi-Wan uneasily averted the scrutinising glance. "Nothing." He reached for her hands and gently pulled them off his face. "You've already donemore than I deserve. I . . . I'm sorry." 

He tried to lock gazes with her, but failed.

"I know. You're sorry for everything. If you could you would even take responsibility for upcoming thunderstorms or the crisis in the Republic." When Padme looked up, her eyes were dark, flaming orbs, her cheeks had gained colour. She withdrew her hands forcefully and rose vigorously. "I can't take it anymore - those constant apologies for every single movement." Padme whirled around, her dark hair framing her face like a dark veil. "Do whatever you want: Be angry, be sad, yell at me, be afraid, hate me. But once and for all: Stop apologising for every breath you take!"

"I could never hate you, even if I . . ." 

"No." Padme's hand rose to stop him. "I don't want to hear Jedi-temple gems of wisdom now. I almost wish you would hate me. At least that would be something we could work with." 

She saw his buried emotions trying to emerge before she turned to go. The cornerstone had been placed. 

She couldn't do any more now. It was his turn.

But she didn't know if he would answer her challenge. And a continuously growing part of her was afraid of what would happen if he didn't.

***

Light rain mingled with the dust in the air and covered everything and everyone with a greasy grey veil. Hopelessness reverberated in every shattered rock. 

The drizzle hardly brought cooling to the humid airand Sabé felt little droplets of perspiration tickling her hairline and amalgamating with the white make-up.

She was cold nevertheless.

Her scalp and forehead tingled, her heart beat too fast and her mouth was as dry as parchment. She was grateful that it hadn't yet been necessary to talk to the citizens surrounding her. With Captain Panaka in the lead and tightly followed by Rabé and Eirtae, she fought her way through rubble and debris and struggled with the waves of intense nausea rising inside of her. 

Sabé had been trained as a warrior, she had seen fights and had lived through crises without even blinking. But the suffering and the meaninglessness leaping up at her from here took her breath away.

Her hands trembled in the long sleeves of the simple dress. What was she supposed to say when asked for help? Why had she been so obsessed with coming here? She had no protocol for situations like this. Political training - no matter how well thought-out **-** didn't include catastrophes like this one.

Sabé urgently wished for Amidala to be in her place, with herself in the cortege.

Through her self-doubts she dully sensed Rabé and Eirtae supporting her like an invisible hand, giving her strength.

That was what Sabé usually did. She gave strength, she supported, she helped, she offered consolation. But always from the shadow, and never as the person in the spotlight, with all the responsibility.

Her strengths lay doing and supporting, not in ruling. She hadn't been made for this role, and every fibre of herself reminded her of that fact as she stepped through a shattered archway into the makeshift hospital, spreading out in front of her.

For a short period of time the picture she saw made her sway imperceivably. Fear gripped her neck in its icy hand and shook her.

Then Eirtae's hand touched her elbow reassuringly, a flood of strength poured over her and she knew with an absolute certainty that those women trusted her beyond a doubt, trusted her to go this hard way and manage it in spite of difficulty.

Amidala relied on her mind and her heart.

Now she, Sabé, had to learn to do the same.

The wind turned and carried away the few rainclouds to reveal a bright blue sky.

Sabé clenched her fists and slowly counted to ten. She mustn't vacillate any longer.

Resolutely she sent the icy fear back to its dark chamber and allowed the confidence of her companions to wash over her soul.

When she stepped to the stretcher of the injured closest to her, nothing of her uncertainty could be seen. The mask was in place once again.

***

Dusk slowly set in. The first stars had risen in the deep blue sky and dipped the forest around her into a mysterious, cool light. The air was heavy and motionless, filled with the fine smell of the blossoming trees in the temple's garden, and intolerably sultry. 

Padme longed for the high, cool halls of the palace. No matter how much the temple-buildings tempered during the decidedly cool nights, they didn't offer a whole lot of shelter from the unpleasantly oppressive humidity.

Not for the first time she asked herself what the priestesses had wanted to achieve by sending them here. Since they had reached the temple, they did nothing but take a few cautious steps towards each other and even that was just a sham, or so it seemed to her. One step forwards and ten steps back. Right now she couldn't even tell where he was. That couldn't possibly have been the purpose of the ritual.

She paced back and forth restlessly. The movement caused her sleeveless, cream-coloured dress to swish around her ankles and she found a little calm in the touch of the rough, cool stone floor under her naked feet. It had been hot, much too hot to wear her usual tunic and pants, but slowly the evening brought cooler air and she shivered ever so slightly. 

Without making a conscious decision, her feet resumed their way and while she was still brooding about the meaning and the implementation of the ritual, she suddenly found herself standing on the hot spring's basin. She remained unmoving, crossed her arms in front of her body and gazed at the water wistfully. She had shied away from this place since Obi-Wan had withdrawn into his shell once again.

For some strange reason she couldn't quite grasp, it hurt being here and thinking back to what they had shared in this place. Boisterousness and pure joy of life seemed to still reverberate in the air - a faint echo of better days.

Since she had confronted him, she hadwaited. Waited with the strength of despair that he would come to his senses and realise what they were about to lose. Padme had ceased counting the hours. 

Instead she lied to herself, pretended not to need his co-operation and his closeness. Padme began to feel exceedingly weak from the effort.

The thick wafts of mist rising from the basin wrapped humid arms around her and pulled her closer imperceivably, until she sank to her knees on the basin's edge and sat on her feet. It was so quiet and peaceful here . . .

Why was she yearning for the loud laughter which had sounded here a few days ago? For the bustle, the slight chaos, the jauntiness?

Involuntarily a smile stole forth on her lips. Padme hadn't allowed herself to think about that part of the night before, but the memories came rushing at her, without her being able to stop them. Without her *_wanting_* to stop the memories.

And for the first time since she could think, she enjoyed the thought of not being in control of something.

***

Life.

Never before had the meaning of the word become quite as clear as in these last hours.

Living, surviving, living on, _LIVING_.

Death had the scene of the accident firmly in its hand. Hundreds had been buried alive and not yet found, desperate relatives searched for their families, women searched for their husbands, children cried for their mothers. In the midst ofall this the robes of the healers were gleaming faintly - the radiant blue had become grey by now and the women were hardly able to take any more injured under their wings.

Naara had lost sight of Reaja when she had stayed with a seriously injured young woman. She had used all of her powers, had managed to stop the bleeding, had set the fractures, treated the wounds and calmed the woman.

And she had been so sure that she would be successful - the young woman had regained consciousness and had smiled softly and gratefully when she had seen the dusty grey face of the young novice.

Naara squeezed her eyes tightly shut and stumbled on blindly.

Life.

The air was filled with the opposite.

She saw the young woman's soft smile in front of her inner eye. It was overshadowed by the picture of the pained statement on the broad, kind face when life slipped away from her ravaged body.

Life.

Naara didn't want to hear anything about life anymore. She had seen enough, enough of this meaningless fight.

Her first very own patient had died under her hands and there had been nothing she could have done. More than an hour later one of the older priestesses had found the novice and pulled her away from the dead body.

Naara's thoughts still swirled in the gently caressing rhythm of the mantra she had tried to soothe the woman with.

Living.

Why?

***

__

'You can do it. You just need to overcome a tiny bit. You can do it.'

Padmes breath was irregular and flat as she stood on the high edge of the temple's wall and looked into the depth. Surely, she had climbed into far greater heights before, but never before without protection. Never before had she jumped into the depth without a safeguard.

__

'There is no other way.'

It was going to be over quickly. A short fall, a quick impact. Then nothing. Maybe that would bring him to his senses.

With a wildly beating heart she looked over the darkened sandstone walls into the green depth. Her palms grew damp. Cold sweat kissed her forehead.

__

'It's for the best. It can only benefit him. Fear only exists when it is permitted.'

Why didn't these gems of wisdom help right now?

Gentle wind moved the fabric of her moss-coloured tunic and blew about single fine hairs she hadn't managed to include in the tight braid onto her forehead. The air was different up here - more free and more fresh, not polluted by the negative vibrations it had down there in his direct vicinity.

Padme swallowed heavily and looked over the wall again - into the deep. Why was she doing this at all? Why was she trying so hard to fix something which might be impossible to fix?

__

'For him,' her inner voice reminded her. _'For us. For both of our futures.'_

Her toes moved a few careful centimetres more towards the edge. The temple's garden seemed even more green and peaceful from up here. The bright blossoms of the tree were smiling at her, nodding, enticing.

With one last deep breath she closed her eyes and jumped.

***

TBC

(as soon as RL allows me to)


	18. XVIII

XVIII **__**

This time, next to the talented Jane Jinn, thanks go out to Quiller, for a tremendously helpful beta-read and ongoing friendship. You rock, lass. :o)

****

XVIII.

Don't look just run away.

Go, suffocate

and choke your own cry

(Lisa Loeb)

***

Obi-Wan was abruptly jerked out of his meditation and out of the continuing intransigence of his trance. He felt the veil which had been cast over his bond to Padme lift for just one blink of an eye. He felt disbelief, despair and . . . fear. Fear which made him gasp for breath. A whole host of emotions, hurting him after his voluntary abstinence. What was she doing? A single moment later he was on his feet. Without thinking he allowed their bond to lead him inthe right direction with a sleepwalking certainty. 

Nevertheless it took a few seconds for his mind to register what his eyes were seeing. Waves of dizzying fear rolled over him and stole precious seconds. 

When he was finally able to act, he saw Padme taking the last step and falling. Narrow trees with dense foliage blocked his view of the place where she must have tumbled down.

While his body moved faster than he could imagine, his mind seemed to limp behind. Unusually violently he pushed aside twigs and foliage. 

***

Sabé carefully set her feet onto dusty soil. The stench of burned woord and molten transpariplast rose from the ground, hung in the air and penetrated clothes. The clouds of smoke had dissipated thanks to the fine misty rain early this morning, but wisps of smoke were still rising from the rubble.

It was aghost city, inhabited by hundreds of exhausted, grey spectres -- with huge eyes which saw nothing but the people in dire need of their help, right in front of them. The helpers performed a seemingly impossible duty.

Sabé saw a small group of healers whose robes seemed fresher than the ones of the others. They had arrived here later, and with an unpleasantly queasy feeling to her stomach she realised who those women were. The soul healers -- called to help the ones who had lost friends or relatives, and the ones who still had no confirmation as to whether their families had survived or not. Her steps dragged as the load on her shoulders became heavier by the minute. She had seen so much suffering. So much suffering, yet pride and hope shone in the people's eyes when shepersonally gave her condolences to the city's inhabitants. 

Sabé felt like a traitor. 

Those people had gained strength from the queen's presence, hadn't felt so horribly lost and alone. She had stood beside so many stretchers and had placed her hand on foreheads. She had spoken so many blessings, listened to so many pleas for help, had spoken so many consolatory words. 

With every single word, the empty feeling in her soul had grown, as she had realised that those people had no idea they were being cheated. They were longing for the queen, and getting only a double in diguise. Sabé felt sick to her stomach.

With a sigh of relief she spotted a narrow trail between two shattered buildings. The daylight waned slowly and was replaced by glaring floodlights which didn't quite reach this passage**,** leaving it in a hazy semi-darkness. No city residents, healers or military task forces were working here and Sabé sank onto a block of ferrocrete with weak knees. The fact that she hadn't eaten since the early hours of the morning came back to her mind abruptly when she stared at her trembling hands. 

"Mistress?" 

Sabé raised her head, exhausted, and turned towards the handmaiden who had spoken. 

Why didn't Amidala react? It wasn't like her to wait that long until answering . . . 

With a suppressed groan Sabé buried her face in the hands and trusted the handmaidens to shield her from curious eyes. Her lack of sleep became distinctly noticeable. This glitch, even though it had only taken place in her mind, was an evident sign that her powers were waning. 

Slowly she pulled her hands away from her face and stared at the white streaks in the palms. Eirtae's voice softly reached her ear, sending Rabé away to find a healer. 

Gathering all her strength, Sabé squared her shoulders and sat up once again -- and was captured by the worried brown eyes of the handmaiden standing opposite her. 

"You should rest and have something to eat, your Majesty," Eirtae admonished her softly, careful not to expose the charade. Sabé could read honest concern in her eyes. 

"I can't, Eirtae," she whispered back. "You know that I can't. I am needed out here."

A barely visible furrow of disapproval appeared over Eirtae's nose. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed to her that they were out of hearing range of the handmaidens and bodyguards and she whispered: "A queen who collapses from exhaustion does not comfort the citizens at all."

Sabe's gaze flared with ire and the other handmaiden automatically stepped back. 

***

An iridescent bug made its way through lush green grass, sent tiny grains of sand into motion and caused weak shudders to move up to the tips of the grass. Its polished shell shone in the dull sunlight. Tiny feelers were put out in order to investigate the bright object in its way - and were pulled back, startled, when the object suddenly moved. 

Padme squinted through half-opened eyes into the fading light and carefully moved her feet. The movement was possible, but the pain it caused made absolutely clear to her that she wouldn't be doing an escapade like this again any time soon.

__

'Do you feel this, too?' she thought grimly.

She wasn't sure just how much of their bond had remained, but those last days had been anything but beneficial to the ritual, and she couldn't imagine _any_ progress had been made. So why shouldn't she let him feel her displeasure?

With a slight feeling of satisfaction she heard twigs being pushed roughly aside and steps closing in on her. 

His breathing sounded laboured. His steps heavy. His movements jerky. 

In the very last moment she extinguished the satisfied smile playing around her lips and closed her eyes. 

Not a second later she felt Obi-Wan falling to his knees next to her and touching her face with shaking hands. Cool against her warm skin. Damp.

"Padme!" 

The panic in his voice was heart-breaking and she almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"Can you hear me? P . . . please say something." 

Deliberately slow she opened her eyes, managed an afflicted smile and whispered a weak: "Ouch." When she was already doing everything in her power to shake him out of his stupor, she could at least stay honest.

Immediately he realised that she couldn't be severely injured and just followed his heart - scooping her into a embrace which was so tight that she could barely breathe.

Big hands caressed the back of her head and pulled her flush against his shoulder. For a few moments Padme enjoyed this closeness and pressed her face into the folds of his rough tunic. She enjoyed his promixity without thinking; the hard planes of his body, the smell of the fresh tunic he had donned this morning, his hands, holding her possessively. 

"I thought something terrible had happened to you." Slowly but steadily, the distressed, raucous whisper entered her warm cocoon of safety and security. 

The muscles in her neck stiffened. Anger wandered over her scalp, prickly hot. With a determined gesture she moved out of his embrace and held him at arms' length. A cool gaze drilled into his eyes.

"You don't get it, do you? Nothing _ever_ happens. Since the day we arrived here _nothing_ has happened. We're not moving at all. You isolate yourself. Is there anything which exists outside your world? When was the last time you actually _noticed_ me? Does my life have to be in danger for you to notice my presence?"

His hands fell away quickly from her shoulder - as though he had burned them. She could almost watch the single pieces of the mosaic forming a complete picture in his mind. Disappointment and bitterness painted a dark cloud on his face. 

"You . . . You did . . ." 

Obi-Wan stopped. It was too obvious. What his heart hadn't wanted to believe when he had seen it, was made painfully clear by his mind. 

She had jumped. Jumped out of her free will, to break down his reserve. She was mocking him. _Making a fool out of him._

Well-known feelings welled up inside of him and he didn't succeed in pushing them back. With a forceful movement he rose and planted himself in front of her - very aware of the fact that he was looming over her like a threatening shadow.

For a short period of time he fought himself, balled his hands to fists and tried fighting the dormant flood of emotions. But the change from boundless worry to naked disillusionment had been too fast, the revelation too painful.

Could he hold himself back? Did he still want to? 

"Have you lost your _mind_?!" A tiny part of him felt satisfaction upon seeing her flinch at his sharp tone of voice, and gaze at him in confusion. 

__

'Didn't he understand anything at all?' Resignation weighed her down.

Her reproachful gaze fuelled his anger.

"You really think all of this was a game for her royal highnesses amusement, am I right? Well? Are you having fun?" Fine pinpricks, exactly placed. He hadn't known he was capable of so much cynicism. 

Padme rose with august slowness and calm. Her placidness should have warned him. Should have made him suspicious. The forceful slap of her slim hand caught him totally by surprise.

Confused, incensed and strangely fascinated all at the same time, he touched his cheek. Had she really just slapped him? The stinging pain in his cheek verified the seemingly impossible deed. She had slapped him? _Padme_? 

The flicker in her eyes made him hesitate. 

"No, wait! _That's_ not it. No game, correct? You had all of this planned. Thought out to the finest of details. Calculated." Triumphantly, he flung his new-found awareness into her face. "Now I know why they elected you queen. Not because you can pretend to be cold and calculating so well . . ." His icy stare made Padme wish she'd never provoked him. " . . . Oh no." Obi-Wan laughed humourlessly and bent down to her a little, a hard smile on his lips. "'It's because you _are_. Cold. Calculating. Only thinking about yourself. You have asked yourself why you are so alone? Here is your answer: In here . . . ," he brought his face to one height with hers and thrust two fingers ruthlessly into her chest, "is nothing but ice."

The force of the words, the accusation and the unfairness in them caused Padme to stagger slightly. Who was this man, standing in front of her? Those words, deliberately spoken to hurt her deeply, couldn't have come from the Jedi-Knight she had come to know. That man had oozed gentleness and understanding, whereas the man in front of her flung nothing but icy disdain at her. 

Padme squared her shoulders. "If it were as you say," she answered with a cool calm that surprised her,"I wouldn't have jumped. But how could you see that . . ." She couldn't quite hide a light tremor when she placed her hand on his chest. "When in here . . . is fear." 

His gaze dropped to her hand. Slim and fragile on his chest. An impulse caused him to raise his gaze again and look into her eyes. What he saw shimmering there made it clear _what_ he had said to her. What he had done to her with his words.How he had hurt her.

The warmth of her hand seemed to penetrate his tunic and burn him. Slowly he moved away from her. 

The laughter came suddenly, unexpected and soaked with scorn and satisfaction. Horrified, Obi- Wan turned to search for the origin of the voice. To his terror he realised that nothing in her tired features indicated that she even heard the laughter.

His panic-stricken gaze, scurrying back and forth, came to rest on her. He saw her lips moving. But her words remained a barely audible whisper which was drowned by the boundless, sardonic laughter.

**__**

"Did you hear what the child just said, little Jedi? You know the way: Anger. Hate. Suffering. The other side. No morals, no worries, no laws, no pain. A beautiful place . . ." 

"_QUIET_!" Obi-Wan's scream cut through both of the voices and immediately there was a deathly silence. 

After a small eternity he heard Padme inhale shakily. He looked at her, intent on perceiving her, and her alone, without being disturbed again. 

__

This beautiful face in front of him . . . The lower lip quivered slightly. The eyes were big and accusingly frightened. How could she dare look at him like that? Why didn't she avert those accusing eyes? He didn't want her sympathy, her accusations, her doubt, her help--especially not her well-meaning but entirely useless help. Not anymore! If she couldn't make the Sith grow quiet, he didn't need her anymore. 

***

Eirtae remained in careful attention. She should have known better than to try to make decisions for Sabé, and her heart, pounding against her ribcage uncomfortably strongly made that fact more than clear. 

Once more she asked herself whether Sabé knew just _how_ alike she was to Amidala. Even the icy glare and the power to demand respect without asking for it was personified in the other handmaiden. 

Nonetheless Eirtae knew when she was right.

The silent dispute between the two women lasted only a few seconds. Then a slight smile appeared on the white face -- completely uncharacteristic for Amidala and belonging solely to Sabé. It disappeared quickly, but Eirtae's tense posture relaxed. She was glad that Sabé had taken her words the right way. The handmaiden was far from wanting to treat the queen's locum tenens like a child, but she couldn't allow Sabé to overtax herself so much that she collapsed. She herself felt exhaustion deadening all of her limbs. Sabé had to be almost suffocating in the tightly laced up dress and the many layers of fabric. 

Quickly she turned around and stepped out of the passage to watch for Rabé. The younger handmaiden had been gone far too long. Somewhere in this area there _had_ to be a healer . . . A blue-grey spot of colour on the edge of her visual field suddenly caught her attention. Behind her she heard the rustling of many layers of fabric and knew that Sabé had risen. 

Eirtae shook her head inwardly. _'No less stubborn than Amidala.'_ A wry smile flickered over her face when she turned towards the dusty blue of the healer's robe. 

The hood was turned up and the small woman dragged her feet through the inch deepdust. 

"Healer!" Eirtae called respectfully over the rubble-covered street. Her voice echoed on the shattered walls and died as a whisper. The woman in the blue robes didn't even move her head. Eirtaes eyebrows furrowed. Hadn't the healer heard her, or didn't she _want_ to hear her? Again she called: "Healer, the royal guard needs your help!" 

The dragging steps slowed down for a moment and the still unrecognisable woman turned partly in her direction. The shoulders dropped a little more and then she resumed walking her way, without stopping. 

The handmaiden felt slight ire rising inside of her. Weren't the healers obligated to help? How could she dare not heed the queen's call?

Her gaze followed the blue-robed figure in disbelief. 

***

What Padme read in his eyes made her shrink back. Nothing was left of the lucidity of former days. Darkness and chaos swirled in them, uncontrolled. His pupils dilated, and began to absorb the bright green-blue of his iris greedily, like a black hole, devouring burning stars. A cold tingling coursed through her body when she felt this incredible power reaching into her. She had asked him to hate her. 

__

Hate. Clear and pure like hot, spiced wine. An addictive drug, granting unknown powers. Rough places on his soul became smooth again. Problems solved themselves. Hate. He only needed to give in to gain the vast power. The possibility fluttered seductively in front of him and he stretched out his hands, reluctantly. 

Had she ever been clear about the implications of her demand? 

She retreated another step and uttered a choked: "You're frightening me."

__

Fear? What was the meaning of this word? A feeling, if he recalled correctly. Fear lead to the dark side. But how could he separate light and dark when he couldn't feel anymore? When everything was numb? When the soul withered? What difference did it make which side he decided on? Stoically and painfully lonely without emotions, every flicker of a feeling provided alleviation. Even fear, the foreign fear, the trepidation of causing her to dread him was better than this lack of emotions. Everything was better, even darkness. He only needed to hold on to this fear. 

Light and dark blurred into a diffuse grey. 

The sentenced echoed in her for a long time while she tried to calm her trembling hands. Fear. She had seen what fear could do. Had seen very clearly how it could change an individual, distort it beyond recognition, until only a fraction of what it had once been existed.

This fear was now about to take her over. She couldn't accept that. Mustn't accept that. She was the queen, she had been elected into this position for a reason. 

Her thoughts lost some of their frenzied speed and started proceeding more calmly again. A look into his eyes showed her that there was barely a slim ring of the blue-green iris left. Still visible, but just about to be devoured completely. This tiniest of moments ignited her fighting spirit. She was not going to let that happen. She couldn't allow him to dive headlong into disaster and be consumed by the dark side. 

With a deep intake of breath she transfixed his gaze. Icy shivers crept over her, but she ignored them steadfastly.

__

Warm, seductive arms cradled him and pulled him into the depths. Darkness had reached him. Bodiless voices were whispering, enticing, promising. They showed him pictures of frightening beauty -- experiences, rising far beyond the five senses and seizing him like a tiny leave in a storm with their fierceness. The fever of the dark side swept over him and swathed him. Deep inside of him something screamed against the roaring of the darkness, warned him. He was about to lose himself. Only a tiny part of him realised this fact. Yet the pull of evil was almost insurmountable. He was being accepted unconditionally -- no rebukes, no sneering remarks, no doubts. He had felt it when he had vanquished the Sith. And if he had accepted it earlier, Qui- Gon would still be alive now. It was like coming home. He was the lost child, alienated from its family, and now he was returning home. Darkness to darkness. Shadows to shadows.

This wasn't only her fate any longer. It was his, and it was in her power to change it. 

Warm and calm, she felt a wave of faith rising inside of her. A force well known to her. Old. Ancient. Yet familiar and not intimidating.

__

"DON'T GIVE UP ON HIM, CHILD OF MY SOUL. HE NEEDS YOU." 

***

TBC


	19. XIX

_As I mentioned before, "Circle of healing" has gone into a rather extensive re-write in order to tighten it and get the flow of the story back to what it once was. Some scenes of the old version have not made the final cut, but trust me, it's for the better._

_Chapter 19-24 will be posted as soon as they're translated anew, the rest will follow soon, hopefully not taking as long anymore._

_

* * *

_

_XIX._

_And I will still be here_

_When the dust has cleared_

_Will you?_

_(Tom McRae)_

_

* * *

_

Her thoughts ran like pearls off a string. She wasn't alone. She had help.

Was it possible at all that some of the darkness in Obi-Wan's eyes had retreated?

_The part of his soul not yet poisoned knew what was going to happen if help didn't come quickly. Darkness would vanquish: Darkness would vanquish light, once and for all. It would gain a powerful ally and devour his soul and pervert all which was sacred to him. Terror should have made him quiver. Instead the part of his soul which was still alive screamed like a wounded animal when the light slowly started to fade more and more._

Full of determination, Padmé put all of her power into the task before her. If she concentrated hard enough, she might push the darkness back into its confines.

But it was hard, so exceedingly hard.

All but on their own, her hands stretched out towards him, palms turned up. She felt the old power controlling her movements, felt how much the physical nature of this gesture supported her mental fight.

Her body-language, her whole being sent him a single, unmistakable message: "Take my hand. Come to me. Just this one step."

_The light had nearly vanished completely. The blazing fires of the dark side burned with black flames and licked at the last fortresses of his self. The murmuring found its way in and stretched out its feelers for the last glimmer of light in his soul. But suddenly grey veils moved over the brightness and the frenetic racing ebbed for a few moments. A rage-fuelled howling went through the bodiless voices. It rose even more when, all of a sudden, a d_ _eli__cate hand stretched out towards him in the darkness, surrounded by a bright dance of light. He shrank back from the light and was tempted to lash out at it and extinguish it with a swift dark impulse, but the tiny part of his soul which hadn't fallen to the dark side yet clung to the hand, searched for help, knew about the goodness, the hope. Hope. Hope was something the dark side couldn't give. He reached for the light and started pulling himself out of the quagmire of lies._

_The unb_ _eli__eving screams of the bodiless voices, insane with fury became ear-splitting when they realised that they had lost._

After a seemingly endless period of time she saw him walk up to her – as though starting an infinite journey in which one step lasted as long as thousands.

_Piece by piece his soul was being released, put back together. He was being born again. Created anew. _

During this time the invisible chains which had bound him and made him overlook the obvious disintegrated.

His dilemma hadn't been his alleged weakness. It had been his misunderstood strength, his pride. Those fell away from him now, left him behind weak, but cleansed. His legs gave way beneath him and he sank to his knees in front of Padmé.

_The light still surrounded her, shining from inside of her. It stretched out softly and shrouded him. But that was not what he needed now. He needed human nearness and warmth._

She lowered her hand onto his head and rested it there.

Obi-Wan's arms wrapped around Padmé's legs and he hid his face in the folds in her tunics in a desperate search for security, fe eling the warmth of her body, her hand on his head. Fears slowly left him and the darkness gave way to the warm light emanating from her. He clung to her d elicate body like a drowning man.

_This_ was reality. _Here,_ he was safe.

* * *

Sabé stared in the same direction Eirtae was looking. The younger handmaiden shook with indignation. She had already ventured a determined step just in the healer's direction when Sabé's hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Wait."

Eirtae's gaze flew to Sabé and fixed on her, aghast.

The queen's locum tenens ignored this glance and walked a few more steps into the street. "Something is wrong. She's not even looking where she's going."

The d elicate figure under the wide blue cloak stumbled and straightened up only half-heartedly. Her steps lost strength by the minute.

Sabé turned to look for the bodyguards and realised that they were stationed several metres away to give her a little more privacy.

Her danger sense tingled in her neck. The warrior inside of her was aware of every detail in her surroundings. An ambush?

She dismissed the thought quickly. No, that wasn't it. Something else made her heart race. Ire towards herself rose inside. Why couldn't she pinpoint where the danger was coming from?

The healer stumbled again and a forceful gust of wind, howling though the row of shattered houses, blew away the cloak's cowl. Black hair came into view, barely reaching over the ears. A fine, pale, apathetic face.

A novice!

Over their heads a landing transporter roared. Her eyes followed it for a few seconds. Then they fixed on a stone archway. When the roar of the transporter dissipated, the harshly grating sound of stone against stone became audible. Rubble had piled up high on the archway – but it was starting to shift.

Her gaze flew back to the novice. Didn't she hear anything? Didn't she see?

The fragile girl stumbled on, impassively, completely blind and deaf to her surroundings.

"Healer novice, stop this instant!" Sabé's voice cut through the smoky air like a whip-crack and the armed men and women of the bodyguard pivoted.

But the girl showed no reaction.

The grating and groaning noises of the overloaded archway grew louder. Still the novice moved towards it.

As quick as lightning, Sabé estimated the distance between her bodyguard and the novice. There was no realistic chance that they would manage to save the girl from herself in time. Eirtae was a counsellor, but had no training to adequately cope with situations like this.

Sabé turned her head towards the handmaiden and hissed or her shoulder: "Distract the bodyguard. I don't care how, but divert their attention. They must not look over here."

"Mistress, I don't think that this is . . ."

"_Now_!" Sabé thundered.

Her voice allowed no dissent and Eirtae hurried to perform her task.

While the younger woman effectively distracted the bodyguard, Sabé sprinted over the rubble-covered street as fast as her tight gown allowed.

First stones started falling out of the archway. The girl stopped for a moment to stare at the shrapnel-like pieces of debris, but then resumed walking.

* * *

The last orange-red rays of the evening sun filtered warmly through the open door of the sleeping quarters. The heat of the day was slow to leave and denied the two occupants of the room the pleasure of a cooling breeze.

Limping slightly, Padmé led Obi-Wan carefully to his bed and motioned for him to sit down. He followed her suggestion hesitantly. They hadn't said a word, but unlike the days before, this silence wasn't unpleasant but reassuring.

"Obi-Wan?" He slowly raised his eyes, appearing surprised to hear her voice. Padmé had stepped soundlessly towards the door and watched him, worried. "When was the last time you ate? It must have been days ago."

Obi-Wan's mind seemed to trip over the mundane question.

"Ate? "

"Yes, ate. I don't think the Council would forgive me if I let you starve out here."

His gaze flew to her clasped hands and their white knuckles. Read too much in her body language. Much more than she was comfortable with.

"I . . . I'm going to get you something to eat now." With careful backward steps she retreated further and further, until her feet touched the doorstep. "You need to eat , you need to . . ."

"No!" His suppressed cry made her freeze. Her gaze flitted back to him uneasily.

"Don't leave." Obi-Wan reached out his hand for her. "Please don't leave now."

His helpless expression melted Padmé's heart. Slowly, step by step she walked up to him.

In front of his bed she hesitated.

Why was her heart beating so hard?

Why did his gaze pierce into her soul?

Fear tingled in her neck like tiny, icy-cold grains of hail. She sat down next to him awkwardly and clasped her hands in her lap tightly again. A tight smile flitted over her face when she turned towards him, her mouth open to speak.

But Obi-Wan's eyes were already closed. Carefully, as though not to hurt her, he let himself sink until his head rested in her lap. A silent sigh raised his chest and she could feel his warm breath through the material of her tunic.

Padmés body grew rigid for a few moments, then she reluctantly started to run her hands through his short hair. A smile flitted over her face when she looked down at him. He was going to need a haircut soon.

Her movements became softer, more calm and natural. Warm, gentle caresses, seeking to soothe his troubled soul.

Padmé felt Obi-Wan gliding into a peaceful slumber. His arm on her knee became more heavy and his hand relaxed. A torrent of infinite affection washed over her while she allowed herself to scrutinise him carefully.

Honey-blonde hair. Broad, arched eyebrows in the same colour. Long lashes, casting soft shadows on his cheeks. Pale skin, which had taken on a golden hue since they'd been out here. A high, strong forehead, showing first signs of frown lines. Narrow, soft lips.

Soft?

Padmé shook herself out of her reverie with great effort.

Soft?

Where had _that_ thought come from?

Her gaze was glued to his lips once again. A slight blush coloured her cheeks when she recalled how close they had come during their innocent, childlike play in the hot spring. Only a few breaths had parted them and they would have . . .

She squashed the thought abruptly when she realised that her hand was hovering only a few millimetres over his lips. What was she doing here?

Unexpectedly her shaking hand was engulfed by his big one at just that moment and pressed possessively against his chest.

Padmé's heart raced and her mouth went dry. Blood climbed into her cheeks.

Seconds stretched into hours until she realised that Obi-Wan had seized her hand in his sleep. She released a shaky breath and smiled. Her r elief was so complete that it weakened Padmé.

Fatigue gnawed at her.

Rising and going to bed was impossible. Movements were impossible since she didn't want to disturb his direly needed sleep.

For a while she fought herself.

But when Obi-Wan's steady breathing and the slowly fading light of the day cocooned her, she submitted, bent forward and placed her cheek on his shoulder. Her warm breath caressed his face.

Padmé was asleep within a matter of minutes.

* * *

Sabé reached the girl at the very last moment, scooping her into her arms and sprinting away from the thunderously crashing archway into the passage where she had been resting shortly before. Thick clouds of dust dimmed the floodlights.

The bodyguards who had been distracted by Eirtae just moments ago were at her side in an instant, shielding her from possible dangers.

Sabé didn't pay heed to them. She sat the girl down on the block of ferrocrete softly and turned towards Eirtae.

"Send for Rabé. She must find the priestess in charge of this novice."

With a wave of her hand she dismissed the guards and cast a quick, appreciative glance in Eirtae's direction. The handmaiden looked behind that glance and moved a few polite metres away as well.

"What is your name, healer novice?"

The girl's bright blue eyes fastened on Sabé, frightened. The thin, pale face was grey. Tears had left bright streaks on her cheeks.

For a while she simply stared at the alleged queen, then she sank to one knee and lowered the dark head. "Naara, your highness."

Sabé lightly lifted the girl's chin and softly beckoned her to raise her head.

"Why didn't you listen to our calls, Naara?" she asked softly.

The novice didn't avert her gaze and Sabé saw such a deep hopelessness in the bright eyes that the sight made her heart bleed.

"I can't help anyone," Naara whispered, barely audible. "No one would miss me. I am a disgrace for the healer temple. I couldn't save her . . ." Fresh tears welled up and rolled over the dusty cheeks.

Sabé crouched in front of the girl abruptly, seized the slim shoulders and held her tear-filled gaze. "Listen to me carefully, Naara. Every hand is needed. Every hand is important and indispensable. You are a healer-novice, and your help is even more significant. But no one, not even the one with the best training is perfect. No one is perfect."

"But you . . . you are . . ." Naara's choked voice was interrupted before she could finish the sentence.

"No, child. I'm not perfect either. But I don't give up. Life has to go on. Defeats must not knock you down. Every day is followed by another one. You need to fight, overcome yourself. Once you have managed that, you will see that you are much more important than you think now."

A babble of voices behind her prompted Sabé to stand quickly and give up on the familiar attitude towards the novice.

A young novice with shoulder length, dark hair hurried behind a small, somewhat round priestess. When they came closer, Sabé recognised Reaja.

Both of them bowed deeply before the queen and received the fragile novice who was by now shaking from exhaustion. Reaja exchanged a quick look with Sabé, smiled warmly and said: "Thank you, your Majesty."

Sabé inclined her head slightly and thus dismissed the woman.

They retreated quickly. Halfway, Naara turned around again. They eyes met mutely. Sabé placed a hand on her chest and lightly tapped the meanwhile dusty bodice of her gown.

'_Strength, child.'_

Naara nodded and finally turned to go.

* * *

It had been a long time since Obi-Wan Kenobi had last woken up without freezing. The cold had found a place in his body, so much that he barely even noticed it anymore. The difference was all the more significant now. Warmth surrounded him – soft and alive, accompanied by a floral scent which was very familiar to him by now.

His deep breathing broke the silence.

His sense of time had left him. Night or day? Finding out would have required opening his eyes, something Obi-Wan direly wanted to avoid. He didn't want to leave this tender cocoon of security and warmth.

Padmé's breath moved his hair and caressed his face gently. In her current position her soft female forms pressed snugly against his back and side. Her open hair fanned over his shoulder and poured over their intertwined hands. He couldn't recall have reached for it, but the feel of his cool skin against the warmth of hers brought peace to him. The warmth of her palm penetrated the material of his tunics and chased away the coolness. He couldn't say when he had last felt so safe and accepted.

She carried the scent of white flowers with her.

She always carried it with her – in her hair, her skin, her gowns. He could have been blind, deaf – Obi-Wan always would have recognised her from this smell only.

When he tried hard, he could find out more. Her aura radiated so much that he could see even without the help of the force, if only he allowed it. Melancholy. Sadness. Determination. Power. Tiny pieces of perfect happiness she didn't want to admit to herself completely.

Obi-Wan awkwardly moved his arm which had lain under his head and had fallen asleep, and was getting painfully numb by now.

His heart beat fast and he could hear the blood rushing in his veins when he picked up on her quiet, sleepy sigh. Carefully, with a pang of regret, he blinked over his shoulder and kept perfectly unmoving, as though frozen in Carbonite, when her eyes fluttered shortly. But her quiet breathing didn't change and her features relaxed again. She hadn't woken and he would do anything to keep it that way.

Cautiously he turned his head and nestled his cheek back into the soft material of her tunic.

_Padmé_. Constant enigma.

Thoughts raced inside his head.

Oh, he had thought this through. Had racked his brains about how to rebuild what was lying in piles of debris around him. Long meditations would bring a better understanding of his nightmares, even though their message still sent cold sweat to his forehead.

Just what had made him b elieve the fight with himself was over? It never would be. He would never completely vanquish the dark impulses inside of him.

Never. The dark side was seductive, and he would always have to watch out.

Padmé had asked him to hate her. One last attempt to break the silence.

Her words had moved him deeply. But it had been the things she had done, her completely altruistic self-sacrifice which had frightened him as much as it had filled him with a deep admiration. She was ready to give up everything. For him.

But why? Why was she doing this?

Her magnanimity and her will to sacrifice everything humbled him and made him think over the situation from another angle. How could he sink so deep into his own pain and his problems without seeing what it did to her?

While he closed his eyes again and relaxed his muscles in his neck a little, he though back to one of the past evenings. She had thought that he wasn't paying attention to her . . . How wrong she had been in some aspects.

Through the thick wafts of mist he had seen her only vaguely. Her slender figure had kneeled at the edge of the basin. The dress had gracefully hugged her narrow hips and had flooded around her like molten evening light.

Back then he couldn't have cared less – he'd been too immersed in fighting his own demons.

Looking back, it surprised him what poetic thoughts she roused in him. Qui-Gon's love for poetry must have rubbed off on him, Obi-Wan realised with a quiet smile.

Qui-Gon . . .

Obi-Wan was fairly certain what his mentor would have thought about this particular situation. He knew exactly how high his Master would have raised the quirky left brow – an aristocratic bow, arching over the midnight-blue eyes. Those eyes would have sparkled with amusement and warmth here and now. Oh no, never would Qui-Gon Jinn have commented on this out loud – not in a situation like this. But certainly this would have been one of the moments in which – over their bond - he would have reminded his Padawan of the living Force.

_"You can't grasp everything with your mind, Padawan. There are times in which the mind has to be quiet in order to listen to what the heart says. "_

He could almost see Qui-Gon's smirking face when he thought back to this often repeated sentence. The bittersweet pain which came along with this memory only strengthened Obi-Wan's decision.

Carefully he opened his eyes again. Night had sunk around the temple, shrouding it. In the soft, never subsiding glow of the sleeping chamber, Padmé's hair shone and her face looked fragile enough to be fairylike. The full lips were opened slightly. The scent of the white flowers swathed her unobtrusively.

How much had she been ready to give up on for him? She had jumped from this temple-building . . . He didn't even want to imagine what would have happened had her calculation only been a little bit off. The torrent of fierce worry and the urge to protect her from all dangers was overwhelming.

His hand involuntarily grasped hers more tightly and she sighed again in her sleep. Unconsciously she increased her gentle hold around his chest.

Who was protecting whom here? An honest, gentle smile stole forth on Obi-Wan's features.

She was closer to him than ever before. Her warm breath still caressed his face. Without him asking for it, his gaze locked on her sleeping face and his heartbeat increased. A light blush crept over his cheeks. Did she know that she was beautiful?

Would she ever know if he . . . His heart stop for a few beats as he juggled the thought which had just crossed his mind. She was the queen. _A sleeping queen_. He was a Jedi-knight. Two worlds collided, different as they could possibly be. Nevertheless . . . A_ sleeping _queen. Who would never find out if he . . .

Slowly he turned, scrutinising even the smallest of changes in her face.

When he thought his heart had to be thumping loud enough for her to hear it, he mustered his last shred of courage and raised his head. His lips whispered over hers for the blink of an eye. And for this single moment he didn't care how wrong it was.

* * *

_TBC_


	20. XX

**XX**.

_Can I burn the mazes I grow?  
Can I?  
I don't think so._

(G. & S. Bettens)

* * *

Sabé's day began with a pounding headache. The weak sunlight which streamed through the high windows hurt her eyes. She wished nothing more than to be allowed to sink back to the refreshing sleep from which the loud knock on the door had awoken her. But it was repeated, patiently but determinedly, once, and a second time. 

Sabé groaned inwardly. What was the benefit in carrying the queen's title for a short period of time if she wasn't even allowed to sleep as long as she wished?

She made a face when the knocking started up again.

With a tired gesture she pushed the sheets aside, let her legs slide out of the bed and struggled into an upright position. The headache hammered behind her forehead. Yesterday's tenseness hadn't eased overnight, but rather had grown worse and sprang back to life with full force. She would have loved to just sink back.

"Mistress?" Eirtae's voice penetrated the door, slightly dampened. It was no use, and Sabé knew it. Sighing, she slipped into the shimmersilk robe, endeavouring to take the upright, royal stance as soon as the wings of the doors would open.

"Come in."

She moved her hand in the direction of the door and it swung open.

Handmaiden's rushed quietly into the queen's bedchamber. They started to push back the covers and spread out garments for the day. From the adjacent room the invigorating smell of freshly brewed tea and the just recently brought breakfast wafted in.

Still with her back to the handmaidens, Sabé pulled back the heavy curtains and opened the floor-length side of the window. Cool, moist air welcomed her and eased the pounding behind her forehead. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the fresh air.

The handmaidens behind her retreated quietly and left her to the morning ritual.

The queen's morning greeting was traditionally given while she was on her own. No one disturbed the ruler in this, nor did they disturb her locum tenens.

Sabé stepped out between the curtains billowing in the light draft and onto the terrace. Raindrops created little bubbles when they hit the narrow puddles of water on the bright marble. Within minutes she was soaked, the silken robe clinging to her contours. She didn't care. Sabé turned her face towards the barely visible morning sun and clearly intoned the words, dating back to ancient times.

When she had ended, her voice died down to a whisper and she added: "Give me strength."

She returned to the bedchamber where Rabé fussed over her, giving her fresh robes.

She breakfasted and donned the royal garments. Still the pain didn't lessen, but the leaden fatigue had disappeared and she regarded the day with new optimism.

What had she told the young novice the day before?

_"Strength." _

It was about time to listen to her own advice.

* * *

She rose in the early morning hours as quietly as she could, lest she wake Obi-Wan, and left the sleeping chamber. Once outside, she took a deep breath and stretched. Abused muscles screamed in protest. Her spinal column popped audibly in even, short intervals. Vertebra by vertebra. Padmé groaned. 

The sun didn't have the strength to send much light through the heavy clouds and the temple buildings remained an uncomfortable grey.

She scurried towards the Atrium with quick steps and disrobed to take a bath. The water of the azure-coloured basin was always warm here, and smelled balmy.

It had become her habit to spend the early hours here, just before she bid the morning greeting and had a light breakfast. This time she stayed longer than usual.

First, heavy raindrops started to fall through the Atrium's open air well and they sparkled in all rainbow colours in the soft lights. The basin was sheltered from the elements and offered protection from the metallic tasting coolness which came along with the rain. The bluish water released its warmth in the sluggishly rising clouds of steam.

Padmé closed her eyes and push away the thoughts that had led her ere so early. She hadn't only left the sleeping chamber because she had wanted to take an early bath. She had woken and had found Obi-Wan's nearness oddly pleasing.

Pleasing in a way she wasn't entirely sure she was comfortable with.

What had happened the night before still moved her. Even though she had spent the night giving him the peace he had believed lost, during the same time her own peace of mind had danced just out of her reach. She had barely slept - blamed it on the uncomfortable posture as much as on her racing thoughts.

What had really happened? She had looked inside him, had seen anger and pain and darkness. Had felt her own self merging with a force that was so old and inconceivable that the thought alone was frightening, even though she had found nothing but protective, soothing energy there.

But it wasn't the ceremonial-like rescue she had managed that unsettled her. It was the thought of what this rescue brought in its tow. Obi-Wan suddenly didn't seem as controlled and cold. He radiated something, a human side, controlled by impulses and feeling, just like her. She had known that it had to have been be there. But now that it was out in the open, it made her uneasy.

She had wanted this. Like a tightrope dancer she had taken step upon step in the slim wire, had danced, had tried to get him to open up in a constant back and forth of stubbornness and understanding. But during all this time, she had felt safe in the assumption that his training could never be pushed back entirely. That her training would protect her from delving too deep into something she couldn't control in the end.

What happened yesterday had removed the protective net from under her feet. The darkness in him made it very clear that even a Jedi like Obi-Wan couldn't control everything going on inside of him. She, too, had lost control when the old force had taken hold of her. What had been necessary and wanted at first scared her now.

Both of them had been shown very clearly that they weren't anyway near as in control as they believed.

She had woken in the middle of the night. Had felt his body close to hers and noticed her subconscious reaction to him. Had noticed how much she wanted this nearness, how much she wanted closer, more palpable, _more_.

She had become a tightrope-dancer without a safety-net. Now she was standing in the middle of the wire and knew that she could move neither back nor forth without the danger of falling.

But a queen was a queen was a queen. She couldn't allow herself losing control.

She rose with a quick movement and watched the water cascading off her skin like scented pearls, leaving it shining in a silvery blue. The sound of the water echoed loudly from the Atrium's walls and disappeared through the open air well.

Sighing, she wrapped herself in a big towel, rubbed herself dry and slid into a fresh tunic.

With quick steps, she stepped out between the Atrium's columns while she brushed her hair with determined strokes. When the brush caught at a knot in her hair and pulled it painfully, she sent one glance toward the door of the sleeping chamber. She toyed with the idea of waking him, but dismissed the thought quickly.

This closeness between them appeared inappropriate now. She didn't want it. There was no explanation for the sudden change of heart, nothing but the numb, unpleasant feeling that she didn't want to be confronted with him. Because meeting him would mean that they had to talk and as much as she had wanted nothing but that during the past days, she abhorred the thought now. For a few hours, maybe even more, she needed the time to think about what happened. Had to think about the implications.

Right now, there were nothing but diffuse feelings she couldn't explain. What she knew for sure, though, was that she couldn't face him now.

Padmé finished brushing her hair and curled it into a tight knot.

It was no running away when she didn't want to deal with him today. She had spent all the past days caring for him. It was her right to think of herself. And when she didn't want to talk, didn't want closeness, didn't want scrutinising glances and careful touches, then it wasn't running away.

The rain pelted on the ground in front of the covered patio. Steady, lashing, unstoppable. It had been raining for more than an hour now, and a careful glance towards the sky showed her that there was no improvement in sight anytime soon.

That meant no escape from the inevitable next meeting with Obi-Wan. Exactly what she didn't want.

She scurried under the canopy into the adjacent building and pushed open the heavy door.

The scent of age greeted her. The room behind the door started to glow in a soft light when she entered. The light continued to glow when she closed the heavy door quietly behind her.

Not running away. Evasive tactics.

* * *

The usual morning sounds hung over the refectory. Clattering cups, plate being pushed back and forth, clinking cutlery, the soft _ping_ of spoons in cups, subdued murmuring. 

The high priestess Aethra glanced over the long tables of the novices, acolytes and priestesses. It was amazing how little the daily routines changed although the past day's horrors still cast long shadows.

The murmuring was different now, that much she realised. Normally the musical laughter of children could be heard wafting over from the novices' tables. At the acolytes' tables, dreams were often discussed so avidly that it held a high entertainment value for the tables surrounding them and more often than not caused muted giggles. Those were soothing sounds, even for the strict head priestess of the temple.

But this morning was different. A lot of the girls and women given into her charge held their heads lowered, and talked to each other more softly than usual. In many faces she saw exhaustion, dark rings under red-rimmed eyes.

During her nightly rounds through the temple's long halls, Aethra had stood in front of many doors.. Normally there was always at least one novice trying to sneak out of her room just to be caught by her.

Not this night. Behind many doors she could hear quiet sobs. Some of the older girls had been allowed to help the priestesses and comfort the younger ones. Those girls were pale as ghosts in the morning, they looked emaciated, their faces beyond tired.

Aethra shivered. She couldn't be soft towards her charges. Mustn't pamper them and take them off their duties. But by Naboo's two moon's, her heart almost broke over the unabashed hopelessness which hung over the refectory like a dark cloud.

She hadn't slept last night. Which wasn't unusual per se, as the tall woman never slept much. But she only rarely did because she didn't know what to do.

She had spent much of the night putting together new timetables for the healers. They had to work in shifts, or the women would collapse from exhaustion soon.

She had had the morbid thought that it had been good that only such a small part of the city had been affected. Looking at the number of healers and novices now, they could not have handled a bigger catastrophe.

Calculations had to be done, and she had to ask the palace to contact the Republic. Their bacta supplies had already been running dangerously low, and yesterday's accident had exhausted them almost completely.

Aethra could have trusted in her own healing abilities, but in emergencies like this, she preferred the bacta. The native Naboo healing needed time, and, here and now, time was the one thing that was slipping rapidly through their fingers.

Mechanically she raised the cup to her mouth and forced herself to drink. She had to be a role model for the novices. For the acolytes. And no less for the priestesses.

With an uneasy feeling she noticed that Reaja was watching her. The smaller priestess with her sharp, kind eyes saw exactly what was going on inside Aethra. The high priestess hid a crease in her normally always perfect gown with a casual gesture. Reaja saw the movement and smiled, but went back to her breakfast without even another glance.

Inwardly, Aethra valued the fact that she couldn't feel the least amount of satisfaction from the smaller priestess.

Unwillingly, she swallowed a few bites of the bread, knowing that her body needed the energy.

In front of the high windows the rain fell and dipped the day into a murky twilight.

That wouldn't help the priestesses' work at the scene of the accident at all.

Luckily she had been informed by the leader of the rescue team late last night that only a few persons were still missing. Only a few healers would be needed out there.

Nevertheless the temple's capacity was at its limits and it would be difficult enough to give medical attention to every injured person. But that would change as soon as the Republic's transport ships reached Theed. Yet until then she had to somehow ration what they still had.

With one last, unwilling sip from her cup, Aethra rose majestically to her full height. Abruptly there was a deathly silence in the refectory.

Hundreds of pairs of eyes - brown, black, green, blue - fastened upon her, curious as to what she had to say. Aethra knew her responsibility well. Her next words could mean success or defeat for the temple this day.

* * *

TBC


	21. XXI

_XXI._

_For the crown you've placed_

_Upon my head_

_Feels too heavy now._

_(Dido Armstrong)_

* * *

__

The high priestess, Aethra, returned from the palace in the evening.

The talk with the queen had been brief, but she had had to wait for a long time. Even though she understood the safety measures, the dignified woman disapproved of being treated like every other petitioner. But the queen had assured her that the request for new Bacta supplies was of the highest priority, and that she would contact the republic immediately.

Aethra walked in deep thought among the high pillars, which were casting long shadows. Single leafs detached themselves from the proliferate creepers winding around the pilasters, and whirled through the mild air in a weightless dance ­ out into one of the many small gardens of Theed.

The steps and steep paths leading up to the temple seemed longer than usual to her.

There were so many things she had to think about. But her thoughts dwelled on the queen's decoy the longest. For a few moments she had almost forgotten that it wasn't Amidala who had stood before her. The queen's bodyguard impersonated the role so well that she demanded the respect of the high priestess. Amidala had decided wisely when she had chosen Sabé ­ the role of the highest ranking handmaiden was traditionally selected by the queen alone.

Nevertheless other things had caught the priestess's eye. Sabé's eyes seemed tired. The dark rings under her eyes weren't visible due to the traditional white make-up, but Aethra knew that they were there. The acting queen's hands were restless, her posture gave the impression of overexertion. Not that Sabé was carrying this visibly; not even the closest handmaidens had spotted the tell-tale signs. But to the priestess's stern, practised eyes none of this was hidden.

She wondered how long the handmaiden would be able to withstand the pressure. But not even she, Aethra, could take the burden off her shoulders. The ritual wasn't finished and taking the queen out of it before the time would mean to endanger the throne even more, and with it the whole planet. She had to trust in Sabés power of resistance.

Her steps carried her swiftly up the last steps and she entered the temple's cool halls with an inaudible sigh. The year had passed its zenith and the days slowly became cooler. The strenuous walk up to the temple had caused her to be out of breath.

She stopped in the portico for a few moments, then stepped up to a fountain under the dome shaped first roof. Quickly she immersed her hands in the cool water and washed off the dust which still lingered in the air and had settled on her hands and face.

Refreshed and calmed by the lights and the sounds of the temple, Aethra turned towards the eastern wing. She had to draw up ration plans. The tuition of the novice's must not be forgotten, despite the tense situation. The acolyte's had only a few months until they would be initiated.

Life went on. It had to go on. Nonetheless she decided only to do the paperwork with the highest priority. She mustn't forget that despite everything else, first and foremost, she was a healer.

* * *

Sabé looked down at the city and saw a tall figure clad in clear blue climbing the steps leading up to the temple hill. She took a deep breath. The high priestess Aethra was an impressive woman who knew exactly how to use her imposing figure and her cool, charismatic aura. Intimidating ­ even towards the queen. Sabé had felt uneasy under the scrutinising glances of the priestess, almost as though the older woman could look right into her soul, as though she could see all the weaknesses Sabé tried so desperately to hide. Of course, Aethra knew everything, knew that Sabé wasn't the queen. Maybe that was what caused the queasy feeling in Sabés stomach. It was enough that she was constantly aware of the fact that she was playing a role. Another person who reminded her of it with piercing glances was something she most definitely didn't need.

She eased her gaze away from the departing blue paint spot and allowed it to glide over Theed.

Tender evening light caressed the dome shaped roofs of the city and lured the long shadows out of the hideaways to start their nightly dance. Soon the city would be dipped in darkness and hundreds of little lights would illuminate the domed roofs like scattered will-o'-the-whisps, nodding kindly to the observer. An evening like all the others ­ if it hadn't been for the still rising cloud of smoke, abruptly dragging Sabé back to reality.

The republic. She had to contact chancellor Palpatine and speed up the Bacta-supplies.

Sabé straightened up, stretched her back and strode out of the empty audience room in the direction of the study.

Without her realising it, her hand moved to the small silver bracelet she always carried, hidden under the brocade decorated glove.

* * *

Subdued murmurs met Aethra when she stepped into the last one of the overcrowded rooms with the beds lined up under the windows at the beginning of the nightly hours. The hall was dipped into a quiet darkness, only at the beds of the patients small lamps lit the shadows with their warm glow.

An acolyte and a novice, a team as it had been assigned by her in the morning, stood in the middle of the room and bent over a bed of a young girl, whose burn wounds were just being cleaned. She was unconscious still, which was why this task had been appointed to the not fully trained girls.

The novice had a scared, almost defiant look on her face, while the acolyte tried to involve the younger girl in the work to take her attention off her insecurity. Aethra saw that the acolyte tried her best, but the novices face grew more and more shuttered.

The girls hadn't spotted her yet, so the priestess crept closer while she looked into the many sleeping faces in the beds. Only very few had already shaken off the effects of the sedatives and Aethra was glad about it. It meant a little delay for the overtaxed healers.

Two voices rose above the soft, reassuring murmuring and humming of the other healers in the hall. One dark and soft, the other bright and rebellious.

"Naara, please help me dress the wound."

"I'm helping you all the time, what else do you want from me?"

"You standing next to me, not even touching the patient doesn't help me at all."

A shadow flew over the novice's face. "I . .. I'm not ready. I haven't learned all of that yet." Her voice sounded softer, but no less defiant. Or was there more to it?

"Then watch me and learn. And follow my orders," the acolyte reprimanded softly.

Aethra was very close to them now. Only two beds parted her from the two dissimilar girls.

There was a rebellious gleam in the novice's eyes, but she followed the older girl's orders.

For minutes, there was silence and Aethra turned towards one of the beds to check on a sleeping patient's head wound, when a suppressed cry of pain reached her ear. It was followed by the bright clink of a metal bowl on the smooth marble floor.

Uneven breathing filled the hall which had suddenly grown deathly silent.

Aethra's gaze jumped to the two girls and saw that the novice stood rooted to the spot at the patient's bed and stared into her open eyes, horrified.

For long moments, nothing happened. Aethra saw that the wound had been cleaned and dressed, only the last few touches were missing to secure the dressing.

The acolyte had turned towards her patient once more and gently stroked over the young girl's brown curls. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Naara still hadn't moved.

With a quick movement she reached for the novice's hand and led it to the patient's hair, to create a reassuring situation by the soft caress.

Aethra smiled quietly. By instinct, the acolyte was acting correctly.

The girl in the bed was confused by the accident and by the sedatives, probably didn't even know where she was and the touches would give her back a little of the lost safety.

It seemed to work. When the girl with the burned arms felt the hands of both of the healers, a little of the tension left her body. The dark eyes flew upwards and stared straight into the novice's face. When she realised that the novice couldn't be much older than she was, a brave smile played around the pallid features of the patient.

But then something happened the high priestess had not expected.

The novice had barely spotted the smile on the young girl's countenance, when she abruptly snatched her hand back and stumbled away from the bed with an ashen face.

The horrified blue eyes stared at Aethra for many seconds without realising who was standing in front of her. Tears pooled in her eyes. One made her way over the pale cheek of the novice.

"Naara!" The acolyte's voice had taken on a sharp, commanding tone, which didn't allow for any more objections.

But Aethra's gaze clung to the fragile novice almost unbelieving, when the girl ran through the long hall with loudly echoing steps and the door slammed shut behind her with a thunderous clank.

* * *

Sabé's fingers wound the small silver bracelet so tightly around her wrist that she could feel the metal cutting into her skin. She welcomed the pain, especially since it brought the necessary distraction from the fact that she was very close to exploding.

Palpatine had been friendly. Compassionate. Appropriately horrified. And not the least bit helpful.

Inwardly, Sabé shook with rage. How could he have dared tell her that the Bacta-supplies would be delayed due to technical problems. Technical problems.

Enraged, Sabé stared at the place where the blue shimmering hologram of the chancellor had been a few minutes ago. She knew exactly what kind of technical difficulties Palpatine had been talking about. The senate hadn't changed at all since he was its head. It was almost as though Naboo's concerns were treated with even less interest than before.

She tried to breathe deeply and calmly. This train of thought led in the wrong direction. Palpatine couldn't restructure the senate within a few weeks. It was impossible, and she was doing him an injustice.

Nevertheless this ascertainment didn't make anything easier. How was she to explain to the healers that the direly needed medical supplies would arrive even later than she had promised?

TBC


	22. XXII

_XXII._

_Never before - never again_

_You will ignore,_

_I will pretend_

_(Dolores O'Riordan)_

* * *

Sabé barely recognised the novice when she rushed past her. A flash of blue colour, then the great door swung closed and the girl was gone. The high priestess shook her head, sighed and allowed herself a thin-lipped smile. Only then did she notice that Sabé was in the room as well. After she had recognised the face under the hood of the simple handmaiden robe, the slight bow came natural.

"Why have you come, mistress?"

They healer's eyes didn't leave Sabé's face, they scrutinised, tried to find the reason for the unusual visit before it was spoken aloud. And with the infallible instinct of the head priestess, she managed.

Sabé saw disb elief and anger flitting over the stern face of the priestess before she schooled a mask of calm.

"There will be no supplies." Not a question. A declaration. Sabé nodded and couldn't manage to look the older woman in the eyes.

"I have done all I could. But the senate hasn't decided yet. We can expect the supplies in three days, earliest."

Why did she feel as though she was ramming a sword into the priestesses chest? Sabé had read Aethra's reports. She knew of the situation of the medical supplies, knew what the piece of news must feel like. Would Amidala have achieved more? Was she, Sabé, not strong enough to negotiate with Palpatine? Should she have been more demanding? Should she . . .

"It is well, mistress." Aethra's clear voice disturbed her racing thoughts. Surprised, Sabé's head shot up.

In a gesture atypically gentle for her, Aethra placed her hand on the tense shoulder of Amidala's locum tenens and said calmly: "It's not your fault. I thank you."

With those words she turned and left Sabé in the soaring entrance hall of the temple. The handmaiden in the queen's role fought tears when she saw the upright figure of the high priestess disappearing down one of the long passage ways.

How much longer? How much longer would she have to carry this increasingly heavy burden?

* * *

A gust of cool night air followed Obi-Wan into the sleeping chamber when he returned from his nightly round. He closed the door quickly. Outside an upcoming storm angrily shook the tree branches and caused them to pound on the flat shingles of the roof with a dull sound. Despite the coolness, the air was heavy and moist - it carried the promise of rain. Thunderstorms. Severe thunderstorms, if Obi-Wan wasn't mistaken.

Exactly what they _didn't_ need now.

The atmosphere between Padmé and him had been charged all day long. He b elieved to understand. They had been out here for quite a while now, with only each other for company. Cabin fever had to set in sooner or later. That didn't stop a niggling fe eling of worry from surfacing, though. She wasn't in the place which was destined for her. Did this cause her incalculable moods?

He glanced towards her sleeping form. The days were growing shorter and Padmé had gone to sleep earlier than ever. The day had passed without her exchanging more than the bare necessities with him. The silence gnawed at him. Had it been the same for her when he had been silent for so long?

With a tired gesture he sloughed off his cloak, slipped out of the tunic and the undershirt. In a automatic set of movements he folded the clothes - a nearly perfect little tower with nearly perfect edges. He shivered reverently at the thought of how often Qui-Gon had made him fold his clothes to refresh one of the dreaded lectures in tidiness.

With a crooked smile he took the pile of clothes and placed it on the simple stool next to his bed. His gaze moved on and stopped at a much more accurately folded tunic. A velvety blue tunic, velvet pants, a silky camisole.

He closed his eyes, thrusting back the fe elings suddenly emerging inside of him. After his heart had found its normal rhythm again and the thoughts were pushed aside, he shook his head, grimacing. Was there anything she couldn't do?

He had expected her to be untidy, spoiled rotten by the constant presence of her handmaidens, but she was the complete opposite. Where Qui-Gon had already been tidy, Padmé was almost pedantic. He didn't envy her handmaidens.

* * *

In her doze, Padmé heard Obi-Wan stepping into the sleeping chamber.

Opening the door ushered in the resinous smell of the trees. Where did he come from, at this hour? Shouldn't he have been asleep by now? She pushed the thoughts back, forced herself to keep her mind blank. She didn't have to worry about this. Didn't need to care.

* * *

A squall howled around the walls of the building in which they slept and filled the night with an eerie echo. He opened his eyes again and turned towards the open window.

A fleeting glance at Padmé revealed her slightly shivering form. With a fluent movement he rose and closed the window. On his way back he dragged his feet, coming to a stop at Padmé's side.

The subdued light of the sleeping chamber reflected off her hair and cast a warm glow on her face. Fine features, belonging to an Elven world, but not to this. Her breath was calm and steady. One hand lay next to her head, relaxed, while the other rested on her thigh. It was a picture of utter peace.

So what was he doing here? Why was he disturbing this peace?

* * *

Cold fell heavily though the open window and Padmé futilely tried to suppress a shiver. Gratefully, she realised that Obi-Wan closed the window. But it took him too long. She counted how many times his feet touched the floor, knew exactly how many steps there were from the window to his bed. Fifteen steps. There should have been fifteen steps. Had she miscounted?

She was wide awake. Her muscles seized up, trying to appear relaxed and asleep.

Her heart somersaulted and what was left of fatigue dissipated like a shadow in the light when her mattress indented slightly and she felt his cool, firm body sit down next to her.

* * *

Obi-Wan exhaled carefully, trying to make as little sound as possible. She mustn't wake up and find him here.

Questions bounced around in his mind. Why was he disturbing this peace? Why was he sitting here, at the edge of her bed? When had he sat down? He couldn't tell.

He almost flinched when his hand unintentionally brushed her naked arm. Warm. So warm. Despite the fine goose-flesh. Pale, velvety skin which was clearly contrasted by the dark blue sheets in the sleeping chamber's soft light.

This time, he couldn't bring the touch to an end. The contact of their lips the night before had been innocent, a d elicate thanksgiving from him to her she would never know about. But this . . .

Obi-Wan knew that it was wrong to touch her like this. Knew it from the moment in which scorching heat rushed up his fingertips and settled in his stomach. But the knowledge didn't help. His hand trailed d elicately over her bare arm and with every centimetre he grew more aware of what he did. The touch of her velvety skin fired tiny explosions along his overly sensitised nerves.

_Wrong. Wrong. Wrong._

Again and again he repeated those words, a desperate mantra against his racing thoughts. His left hand followed the curve of her shoulder and slid tentatively over the filigree silver necklace to her silky soft neck. Obi-Wan swallowed hard. His heart started pounding in an erratic manner.

_Wrong. Wrong. Wrong._

His fingertips reached her face.

* * *

She already felt the coolness of his hand as it still hovered over her arm. Her innermost being tensed up in anticipation of this touch. Feared what would happen if he completed the gesture. _Yearned_ for it nevertheless. Invisible shivers danced along her skin when Obi-Wan touched her for the first time. An infinitely tender caress which sent an wave of warmth tingling through her body.

_Wrong_.

Her heart raced. He had to know. They were too different, their destinies were set on different paths. Her brain kept coming up with more and more reasons why she mustn't feel what she was rapidly beginning to feel.

What he did was wrong.

Her breathing grew shallow. She mustn't indulge in this. Mustn't yearn for what his touch ignited in her.

Wrong. _Wrong_.

Then why were her fe elings speaking a completely different language than her mind?

Padmé fought with conflicting emotions. She wanted to open her eyes and look at him, wanted to see what she would read in his gaze. But what would that be? And most of all, would she be able to handle it?

His hand sensitised her warm skin. His fingertips left a cool, tingling trace on her arm.

In the quiet darkness she heard him expelling his breath softly, slowly. The warm, moist air moved her hair. She picked up his scent ­ unobtrusive, masculine. If he came only a millimetre closer she would be able to taste him . . . She fought a breathy moan.

If she showed him now that she wasn't asleep, she wasn't sure either of them would be able to remain in control of the situation.

The cool hand had found her face in the meantime and painted exotic patterns on it, discovered, caressed. She was hard pressed to fight a shiver. A part of her wanted to run, hide from what this touch implied. The other part of her welcomed the forbidden and found it difficult to keep her muscles from moving and reciprocating.

* * *

The heat of her soft body was suddenly so much more than just a sign of life and his awareness heightened immeasurably: Every single movement of a muscle, every sound, every breath became almost painfully cognisant to him.

Unexpected warmth coiled in his stomach. Her scent surrounded him. His heart hammered a rapid staccato against his ribcage. His breath leaked from his lips slowly, arduously.

Force, he had to get away from her nearness. But he didn't want to. Something in him asked him to stay and d eliver himself completely, to reveal himself after those many times she had saved him from himself ­ no matter where this fe eling might make him drift to.

But his mind warned him, stifled the desire to wake those lips with a searing kiss.

Obi-Wan slowly pulled back his hand and raked it through his hair in a frustrated gesture. He mustn't read more into her innocent help than was intended.

He mustn't follow his fe elings. They were dangerous. Maybe even more dangerous than anything the dark side could ever come up with. He had to ignore his fe elings, fight them. He owed that to himself, to the order, and to her. Most of all to her. He couldn't and mustn't forget her origins.

He lingered nevertheless, unable to leave.

But it was a tiny gesture of Padmé's which made him flee her bedside. Her left hand wandered to push aside a stray strand of hair in her sleep and rested on her forehead. This picture was so innocent and peaceful that the icy knot in his stomach came back to life with a painful suddenness. She looked young. So _young_.

He was on his feet instantly and flung open the door to dive into the night. A cold squall met him and whipped over his naked chest. He welcomed it with a r elieved hiss. How could he forget how old she was? What was he _doing_ here?

* * *

_TBC_


	23. XXIII

**_XXIII._****__**

****

_Never felt last evening,_

_that__ by this afternoon_

_Whole new way of thinking,_

_And I'm talking about you._

_(James Yorkston)_

***

If there was one thing Padmé hadn't expected, it was Obi-Wan submerging and disappearing in the clouds of steam rising from the hot spring. The past moment was suddenly just that - passed. Gone was the strange feeling of power she had shortly held over him. Gone the slight twinge in her stomach, the hope to finally have found the right words. Gone also the relief to have vented steam for once.

Gone with him.

Padmé stared into the impenetrable clouds. The bird that had flown away earlier came back and started to sing. It seemed as though it was mocking her. Her and her naïveté. Had she really expected to find a way to him? He was a Jedi and stayed a Jedi, someone who didn't allow anyone to see behind his carefully erected walls. 

Nevertheless. It was enough. She would have given anything if he had only told her a _bit _about himself. Something, _anything_. Something which would have showed her that the word trust wasn't just a polite but meaningless phrase. But it seemed that she had erred.

She felt empty.

How could he do this to her over and over again? And why did she let him?

Padmé breathed quickly. The emptiness was being filled more and more by anger. 

And then, suddenly, she rose, threw her head back and screamed. Screamed so loud that the jungle around her fell silent immediately. Screamed until her voice resonated in the empty rooms of the temple. Screamed until her throat ached and she didn't have any breath left.

Weakness flooded her when she halted. Padmé closed her eyes and sank backwards against a fallen column.

"Impressive."

When she opened her eyes, Obi-Wan stood in front of her, smiling, an over-tunic in one hand and the data-pad in the other.

"Remind me never to anger you. I'm sure your voice alone could kill." 

"Never to anger " Padmé began. She groped for a comeback. Any kind of answer which would have been fitting or worthy or in whatever way proper. She found none.

In its place she did something Obi-Wan clearly hadn't expected.

She slapped him across the face, the pushed against his ribcage and sent him stumbling into the hot spring with an "oomph" and a splash. 

"Bastard." 

***

"Hush, hush, please be _quiet_!" Naara rushed from one tiny bed to the other and tried - to no avail - to calm the screaming babies. "The priestess will never allow me to return to the main temple if all of you don't sleep soon!"

Five. Only five children had been given into her care. And everything had been just fine until it was time for bed. Because this was exactly the moment her little ones decided that it wasn't time to sleep at all.

And her worry was justified. It was her duty to make sure the children slept, and if she didn't do it, they would keep her here until she had - after night upon night - found a way to make sure they slept peacefully.

Sighing, she acknowledged grudgingly that it may not have been an overly good idea to raise the ire of the acolyte in charge.

One of the kicking children on her arm, she walked between the beds and wondered what would happen if she just took a few of the herbs she had cut in the Aborethum this morning and combined them into a sleeping potion. Not that she knew how to brew such a potion, but there was no harm in trying, was there? Or maybe she should just fake an acute fit of madness? It wasn't as if she was far from this state anyway.

The baby on her arm started to become more quite, but the others still screamed and kicked loud enough for her to worry that she would lose her little victory soon enough.

It was the last option, and Naara didn't hope for much of a success, but she had to try.

The melody she sang was simple, a lullaby she remembered her mother singing to her. Naara lost herself in the uncomplicated song, and suddenly the children weren't her opponents anymore, but her allies. She went from bed to bed and sang. Sometimes quiet and alluring, sometimes a bit more brash, and sometimes tender as could be.

It was a little miracle to her, but the children calmed down. One after the other started to listen to her, and fell asleep soon after.

Naara's song ebbed away into silence. The head of the baby on her arm had sunk against her shoulder and she felt the warmth of the little bundle, realised for the first time the child's pleasant smell and the tiny hand which clung tightly to her index finger. A smile played around Naara's lips. Her gaze travelled over the beds and the sleeping children. They weren't quite was bad as they had seemed.

Taking her little load with her, Naara sat down in the comfortable chair near the window and watched the moon rise.

***

He couldn't remember how many times he had said he was sorry. What was it between them that kept resulting in misunderstandings?

He had left the hot spring so quickly to bring her back the data-pad, to prove that his plea for earning her trust was serious.

And now? What good had it done him? A burning cheek and an unwanted bath. Great. And he had just donned dry clothes. And he wasn't even talking about her tunic and the data pad. He laid the dripping wet tunic onto the basin's edge, and dove for the data-pad.

Suppressing a wry grin was hard. Luckily, those pads were waterproof, or her impulsive reaction would have destroyed all her work.

He saw Padmé's glance stopping at the small wet heaps and then turning to him, thoughtfully. The silence became uncomfortable once more, and he felt the urge to flee from this searching glance. But if at all, this was the moment to take the Bantha by the ears.

Obi-Wan couldn't stand her silence one more moment. Not the silence, not the unreadable glances, not the mixture of sadness and burning anger in her aura.

"I will say it once again, Padmé: I'm sorry. What else can I do?"

She considered for a painfully long time. "You could talk," she finally ventured. It wasn't obvious whether or not she would continue. But when Obi-Wan opened his mouth to respond, she resumed: "But not now."

His mouth closed. He felt stupid. Whatever was it she wanted to hear?

"Trust, Obi-Wan. That's what it all boils down to. True friendship must be built on trust, or it is a meaningless and hollow word."

"I kept thinking we had a friendship. Is it really so easy to destroy? By a hidden data pad?"

She tapped her foot impatiently on the marble floor. "Do _not_ play dumb with me. This is not about the pad."

"What then?

"Give and take. Do you even remember why we were sent here?"

Give and take. The water around him seemed to grow cooler as her words sank in. They had been sent here to help each other to sever the bond which had formed between them so unnaturally. Yet until now, nothing had happened which went even remotely in the direction of achieving that goal. And it wasn't Padmé who was to blame. It hadn't been her who had shut herself off and didn't let anyone get close to her.

Give and take. Until now, she had given without taking. He had taken without giving. And somewhere in the middle, in one of their many scrambled attempts to understand each other better, he had developed feelings for her which didn't help matters in the slightest. But had he really tried to understand her until now? Hadn't he just had a picture of her, and had tried to make her fit into it?

But the picture, the _stereotype_ didn't fit the woman in front of him. She broke out at all corners, couldn't be tied down, couldn't be described properly. Was that what made him retreat? 

Take the Bantha by the ears.

It was worth a try. But it wasn't the first time that Obi-Wan wished he had listened to Qui-Gon better when his master had told him about the unpredictability of all female beings in the universe. Back then, he had thought it a fairy tale, little stories to tease him, maybe test the concentration of the pupil. Well, this was one test Obi-Wan had _not_ passed.

Thinking about how he would only be able to repeat that lecture in his memory hurt. So he shut away the past and concentrated on the present.

"You have worked on the background of the ritual. What have you found out?"

"You didn't read the pad?"

"Your safety precautions were good." Obi-Wan shot her a wry glance. "So much for trust."

Her eyes lit up in a dark fire. "How dare you "

He raised his hands defensively. "Strike the last sentence. I don't want to fight now."

She breathed deeply. "Fine." Then, as though she couldn't help it: "I would have thought you were better at bypassing safety measures."

He raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I simply didn't want to find out that ending the ritual involves me being quartered and fed to the Hutts by you. The thought is terribly disillusioning."

She gasped, but suppressed a laugh. "Not quite, but close. Yet, should you decide to continue being difficult, the Hutt option is open."

Obi-Wan flinched in mock terror: "Mercy!"

In her most royal pose, she answered: "You could promise reformation." Padmé gestured toward the hot spring and the soft light, brightening the clouds of steam. "Here."

"In the spring?" Obi-Wan's eyebrows shot up again." "Do I have to drown myself? Or will you do that?" He bit his tongue. It was time to lay sarcasm aside and start taking her seriously.

Padmé glared at him. "That wasn't funny."

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan back-pedalled. Indeed. Even if the cheeky comments seemed to have amused her mere moments ago, this definitely wasn't the time for them anymore.

She bobbed on her feet, an impatient, yet insecure movement. Finally, her mouth settled into certain lines he had observed quite often before when she had set her mind on something and wouldn't move a single centimetre from that decision. And after everything that had happened, he would much rather swallow his own tongue than talk back again. At least within the next hour. It seemed that he had paid attention to at least one of Qui-Gon's lectures.

Her body tensed slightly when she raised both hands to twist her hair into a tight knot she fastened at the back of her head. Then she walked light-footedly to the entrance of the basin and started walking into the warm water slowly.

He watched her, confused and fascinated at the same time. She hadn't even bothered changing into one of the white suits. The flowing material of the crème-coloured dress floated around her and hugged her body where it was already soaked.

She came closer. And he realised acutely, how her closeness stole the ground from under his feet. Yet he stayed where he was, unable to move, unable to do anything but stare at her and hope that she wouldn't interpret his looks.

"Now what?" It seemed to be the most harmless question to break the oppressing silence.

Padmé smiled ominously. "So impatient?"

Obi-Wan bit his tongue. His answer would have made for a handsome drowned body. So he kept quiet and waited.

She glided behind him in a lazy arch. He fought the urge to turn to her.

A wet hand closed over his eyes. He flinched. Salty water ran over his lips. His muscles tensed. Still her mood wasn't readable. Anything could happen anything.

"Close your eyes."

Her voice was near his ear, calm, and almost hypnotic. Still dangerous. Then he felt her withdrawing her hand and placing it against the small of his back to direct him deeper into the water. He lost the ground beneath his feet and submerged shortly, only to find out that she held him safely under his arms and had brought him into a horizontal position. The short panic that had arisen in him when the water had closed over his face, ebbed away.

"Let go."

Easier said than done. His whole body was tense, the unusual position and her unreadable mood woke up his trained instincts.

"Is this really necessary?" he asked carefully.

Her voice was close to his ear again, deeper this time and softer still. "Trust me."

So that was it. _That _was the test of trust? He was supposed to trust her even though he expected her mood to change and her to drown him any second? It took an effort to relax his muscles. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"Nothing." He felt her start to move. To move them both. It was the surreal sensation of floating in a room filled with tiny explosives. Any wrong move, any wrong breath could cause a chain reaction.

"Nothing at all?" He opened his eyes shortly to sneak a glance at her face.

"Try not to expect anything, not to think." When she saw that his eyes were open, she shook her head reproachfully. Oh no, no matter how soft her voice was, the storm was still raging in her eyes. He suppressed a shiver. "Close your eyes. Drift. Trust me."

Finally, he did as he was told. He forced himself not to think about what had led to this situation. Forced himself to forget that he was at her mercy. Forced himself to forget everything but the initial trust he had had - days ago, when she had brought him back from the darkness. 

Obi-Wan forgot. He drifted, eyes closed. Meditated on trust. Nothing happened. The longer he drifted, the more distinctly he felt her mood change and her anger dissipate. He floated. And he trusted. Trusted her not to drop him, not to let him submerge should he drift too far, trusted in her not to take advantage of her stronger position to pay him back. 

Trust - it was a good feeling to be held by those fragile hands and to know he was safe. Safe - as long as he didn't think.

Safe  - until the small hands moved to his chest, pressed down with surprising strength and the water closed over his face. 

**_TBC_**

_I cannot apologise enough _for keeping you waiting so long, so I won't even start.__

_You have a new chapter here, and more will follow, even though I cannot promise that it won't take just as long as last time. But it will please you to hear that my muse has written me a 7 pages long letter which has spiked quite a few new ideas, and has un-buried a few old ones I had believed to be forever lost._

_There's hope!_

_And I repeat my words: If you have any ideas about the plot, please contact me, your idea may be the one that gets me writing more._


	24. XXIV

_For all of you who have waited so long. Thank you for the patience._

XXIV.

  
_You're almost happy  
Almost content.  
But your head hurts.  
(G. & S. Bettens)_  
  
***

Golden gleaming, even through closed eyelids. Warmth. Swimming, gliding, drifting. Drifting. But where? And for how long was he drifting?

His lungs craved for the life-giving breath. But it was impossible.

Impossible? Why? Padmé no longer held him under the surface. He could hear her talking, muffled, unable to make out her words here, under water. Why didn't he emerge? What kept him?

Memory crept back sluggishly. He had wanted to drown before. Back then, not much had prevented him from following Qui-Gon. Except for Padmé. Was that what kept him? He felt his body wanting to drift to the surface, following the physical laws which were similar on most planets. But he stayed, held himself under water, ignored the burning in his lungs. He could hold his breath long enough. He was almost sure. And even if ...

The water disconnected him from everything going on up there: from Padmé, her voice, from Naboo, from all beings depending on him, expecting something from him. From everything but himself and his thoughts. From his memory. Almost as if no time had passed at all, he saw Qui-Gon's death, this brutal, much too sudden and cruelly noble death.

He had left Obi-Wan behind in taking on the Sith alone. Had left him with all the obligations, without advice, without help, without the constant and calm presence on which Obi-Wan had been relying since he was thirteen years old. Through his sacrifice, he had taken a part of Obi-Wan's self away, and the emptiness which had opened up was now filled with pain so strong that sometimes it made hard to breathe, and made Obi-Wan doubt everything he had ever learned. 

What was the council, what were the Jedi without Qui-Gon Jinn? Without his wisdom, his mildness and his dry humour? What were they without his strength and his belief in the unifying force? Nothing. Suddenly they weren't important anymore. And he, Obi-Wan, was the only one who had soaked up the teachings of Qui-Gin. Granted, he had always thought them inappropriate for a proper Jedi knight, but he had always listened.

Was that what Qui-Gon had expected from him? Was he supposed to go on living with the pain without sharing it, and only share the knowledge he had acquired? Was he supposed to teach Anakin to become like Qui-Gon?

It all boiled down to one thing - he didn't have control over anything in his life. Everything seemed to be predetermined, roads winding in certain ways before he could decide which way he wanted to go. Bandomeer. Melida/Daan. Tattooine. Naboo. And of course, Anakin. Qui-Gon's death was one of these roads. Predetermined by the Force for him to walk on. Outside his influence. Beyond his control. He was nothing but a puppet bound by countless strings of the Force.

Anger welled up inside of him. He lungs burned fiercely. His ears hurt. Not much longer ...

Was this the will of the Force, too? Surely not. But what if he simply didn't surface? What if he simply gave himself to the water, fled from the ways of the Force. What if he simply - died? 

Here, now?

For the first time, he would be in control.

The burning in his lungs became painful. Was this really the way he had to go in order to find himself? To find something in his life only he controlled? Even if it was only his own death?

Two hands clamped around his upper arms and pulled him to the surface.

The air that rushed into his lungs was the sweetest he had ever tasted.

But after his breathing had evened again, his gaze drifted to Padmé and realisation dawned: Once again, the decision had been taken away from him. Predetermined. Out of his control.

Padmé had pulled him to the surface, had decided his fate for him. _Again._

Anger washed over him anew.

Her face spoke of worry, of anger, of fear. "Were you trying to kill yourself?"

His eyes flashed. "I only meant to finish what you started."

***

"I ..." Padmé started, but stopped immediately. The words she had prepared while he was underwater suddenly seemed empty and meaningless, even childish.

But he didn't seem to notice the pause. The strange, dangerous spark she had seen before was back in his eyes. Had she elicited it?

Had something in his posture changed? He seemed taller than before. Darker than before.

His eyes. It was his eyes which showed the change most clearly. Not tender blue-green with a hint of concern. His eyes were dark and dangerous, the realisation sent an unpleasant shiver down her spine.

She averted her eyes, unable to take his glance any longer, not wanting to see what she saw.

What had happened after she had pushed him under water? And what in the name of the three moons of Naboo had she been thinking? She couldn't tell - it had been as quick as it was impulsive.

Then his long stay down there. In the beginning she had thought he was trying to tease her. She had almost expected another little water fight to start. She had almost looked forward to it. Almost. But he hadn't come up again, and with every second he had stayed down there, her heart had beat faster. Breathing had been hard, as though it was her and not him who lay down there. What had he been doing? Had he meant to punish her for her impulsiveness?

Finally she hadn't been able to take it any longer and had pulled him up. It was a task needing all her strength, for he was heavy, much heavier than she had imagined. Irrationally, she wondered if it were his sorrows weighing him down. Was she just as heavy, then? She, too, had sorrows. He wasn't alone in his pain, his problems, his doubts.

The thoughts had flown away when he had emerged and had taken his first breath. A deep breath, the breath of a drowning man, saved in the very last second. 

New realisation. Had he meant to? Had he meant to stay down there to never again emerge? Had he meant to destroy everything?

The swirling thoughts woke her temper and she raised her gaze to search his face.

What she saw made her freeze. 

He was close.

Very close.

Padmé swallowed when she saw that barely two steps separated them. 

Too close.

Much too close.

She suppressed a shiver and forced herself to look him straight in the eyes. "What were you playing at, Obi-Wan?"

***

"What were you playing at, Obi-Wan?" Was there irritation in her voice? Worry? Resignation?

Padmé was close. Close enough so Obi-Wan could count every single one of her eyelashes. Close enough to see that she had a little scar above her brow. Close enough to feel how her breath chilled the drops of water on his chest

And suddenly it was crystal clear. He looked into the dark brown eyes in front of him, sparkling in the soft light of the spring. Saw the shapes and curves in all the right places. Saw the rosewood coloured, full lips. Saw and allowed himself to see.

The Force might control a lot of things in his life. It wouldn't control this. He was cut off from the force, ironically it had even been initiated by the Council. They had injected him with a drug which prevented the Midichlorians in his blood from communicating with him. In the beginning it had been painful, another loss. Now, in this very moment, he felt free.

Obi-Wan smiled triumphantly. Not this time. This time the Force would not control him. Not here, not now. The Council had hindered his Force sense - the very thing that made him a Jedi - so what reason was there to hold to Jedi conventions?

His eyes raked over her as he took another step closer. Padmé's eyes widened.

***

Something new was in his gaze, something she had never before seen in him. Hunger. Dark, insatiable hunger. She felt uncomfortable under this intense scrutiny. Everything lay open before her, feelings which had been suppressed until now, questions which suddenly had been answered.

"Padmé." 

This mustn't be. He mustn't talk to her like that. Not with a deep, sensuous voice that was far more unsettling than the look in his eyes. Not in the way which threatened her knees to buckle. 

The smile playing around his lips was dangerous and attractive at once.

The Obi-Wan standing in front of her was unknown to her, a stranger. An attractive stranger, an unwanted part of her brain reminded her. An attractive stranger who didn't hide what he wanted.

And what was worse, she didn't see any reason why he shouldn't get what he wanted. 

Wasn't it what she, too ... ? 

Her gaze met his. Flickered. Searched. Discovered.

Suddenly, there was no room between them.

His hands framed her face. His body, though it didn't touch hers, enveloped Padmé with its coolness. So different from anything she had ever felt from Obi-Wan.

She wished the water of the spring wasn't warm but icy-cold. With a enormous effort, she broke eye contact and stared at his chest instead.

This thing happening between them was wrong.

"We ... Obi-Wan, we ..." Padmé stopped, feeling surprisingly un-eloquent.

He had to know it was wrong. Hidden touches at night, meant to be forgotten in the morning were one thing, but this ... 

He was cool. All this time in the warm water, and still his skin felt cool to the touch? 

His skin. Touch. _'By the moons.'_ Her hands had stopped listening to her brain and roamed, tentatively, over his shoulders and arms. She could feel muscles flexing under cool skin.

He raised her head gently, firmly, with his index finger. Smoky, dark green-blue met her gaze.

His breath mingled with hers. Quick. Warm. Uneven. Impatient?

Her mouth went dry.

A tingling of an altogether different kind than before prickled over her body when his calloused thumb brushed the tender skin of her lips. 

Heat coiled in her stomach. Her eyes fluttered shut.

What was right, what was wrong? Right, wrong. Right. Wrong. Rightwrong, rightwrongrightwrongrightwrong. She repeated the words until they lost their meaning.

The only thing that was real was the feeling of his hands on her face.

Her lips parted on their own accord. A devilish aspect of her mind made her flick her tongue quickly over the pad of his thumb. She tasted the salt of the spring, felt his fingers tremble against her cheek.

Before she could open her eyes to see what kind of effect her little action had had on him, his cool lips found hers. Gently, hesitantly at first. Soft and cool and intoxicating. Would she ever get enough of this?

Then demanding. Hungry. Alarmingly hungry.

His lips opened hers impatiently. His tongue flicked against hers, once, then again and again, until a rhythm built between them neither of them could or wanted to escape.

His hands explored her body, slowly, as though he had to discover every part of her. They stilled at her hips under water where his fingers opened and closed reflexively. The feelings flooding her body were frightening her.

Her knees gave way and she clung to his shoulders, wrapping her legs around his. She could feel his hunger and answered with her own.

Breathless. Hungry. Insatiable.

Yet in the back of her mind, worry about the intensity of their actions gnawed at her. It was too much. Was it her own passion she felt or did she simply mirror his? 

Was she ready to give what he wanted?

She felt him steering her into more shallow water, pressing her back against the walls of the basin. The marble was cool in comparison to the warm water.

Heat throbbed through her body. His hands were seemingly everywhere, intensive, demanding, possessive.

The strap of her dress slithered from her shoulder, assisted by his cool hand.

Maybe it was the feeling of the wet material. Maybe it was the night air. Maybe her brain had fought its way free of the overpowering feelings for a few precious seconds.

"Obi-Wan ..." The protest sounded weak even to her ears. "Wait." Before another onslaught of his passion could sweep her away, she found her voice again and said, a little more forcefully: "Obi-Wan, please."

He gave an unarticulated, deep rumble of displeasure that reverberated in Padmé's chest. His teeth found the second strap of her dress. Slowly, sensuously, in an arousing way he had no _right_ to know about he slipped it downwards. She would have to act now, before she was incapable of rational thought.

Never before had anything been harder for Padmé. She put both of her hands on the sides of his face and forced him gently to look at her. "Obi-Wan, please. Stop."

***

"Padmé." She shivered in response. 

Everything was suddenly so easy. Why hadn't he done this before? He saw the goose-flesh skittering over her arms when he spoke her name.

A smile touched his lips. If she reacted to his voice that way, what would happen, if ...

His gaze met hers. Searching. Flickering.

A light, pleasant shock rippled through him. He found the same dark, unquenchable desire that burned in him.

Too long. In the very moment he pulled her to him so closely that he could feel her warm body pressing against his ... He knew in that moment that they had waited too long.

"We ... Obi-Wan, we ..."

No! No Protest. No conventions. She couldn't really want what reason told her. Couldn't, the way he couldn't.

She became silent when she saw her hands roaming over his chest. He couldn't help the smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

His hands moved to her face, lifted her chin. Her breath mingled with his. Sweet, warm, intoxicating. He didn't want to wait any longer. Time for caution was over. His thumb smoothed over her lips. She trembled. Her eyes closed.

His breath grew faster.

Her lips parted slightly, giving him more room for exploration, stayed passive, until ... He felt the zing go right to his toes when her tongue touched his thumb.

Minx. There was only one answer for this taunt.

His lips found hers. Timid at first, careful. This was new ground, wonderful new ground and it was just as he had imagined it in all those dark hours of nights past.

But it wasn't enough. Desire stirred in him. More. It wasn't enough. It couldn't ever be enough.

He forgot reserve, forgot caution and forgot tenderness. He claimed, took. Opened her lips impatiently, found her tongue, velvety, rich. He had had a heavy, dark wine on one of the outer-rim worlds once - this was more intoxicating, ran deeper. Her warmth, the way she desperately tried to breathe without breaking the kiss, the soft noises she made - it was poison. A poison he would never get enough of.

His hands slid down her body, far from being tender. This wasn't about tenderness. This was possession, finally touching and exploring what had been denied for so long. He felt her knees buckle, her hands clutch his shoulders, her legs twine around his legs to stop her from submerging.

It wasn't enough. Never enough.

He barely noticed that he maneuvered her towards the rim of the basin. His lips followed his hands, along the line of her neck. Hands brushed off one narrow strap of her dress. Lips wandered over soft skin, over her collar-bone where the strap had rested.

She tensed suddenly, murmured a barely comprehensible protest.

No. She couldn't expect him to stop what they had started. It was simply impossible. It couldn't be possible for her. He knew it wasn't.

He found the second strap of her dress. His teeth closed over the wet material and pulled it downwards, slowly, determinedly; he let his breath skitter over her skin. Saw her quiver.

Felt her hands on his face. Felt the emphasis when she forced him to look at her.

Felt fear claw its way into his mind.

"Obi-Wan, please. Stop." The world suddenly stood still and became ice-cold.

***

It seemed as though a bubble had burst in that very moment. He let go of her immediately. His eyes cleared.

Subsequently he stared at her as though the past moments had never taken place. But her dilated pupils and her quick breathing, together with the slipped down straps of her dress which only barely covered her firm breasts, painted an all too clear picture.

Mortification took the place of the earlier passion.

The new Obi-Wan had disappeared and left behind the one she knew. This Obi-Wan touched his lips, stared at Padmé for a few painful seconds, then hoisted himself from the basin and bolted into the night.

She had been able to read his gaze. Crystal clear, stabbing her like a knife.

Padmé raised shaking hands to cover her face and tried to calm her racing thoughts, tried to breathe against the sob that was fighting to surface.

Was this really what she had wanted?

_TBC_

_A/N: Biggest possible thanks to Quiller and Kath for the beta._


End file.
